


North Star

by Tylanoid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Combined Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M, Physically Disabled Harry, Pokemon are the magical creatures of the universe, Pokémon Trainer Harry, Squib Harry, There is no statute of secrecy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2020-12-17 12:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21054692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tylanoid/pseuds/Tylanoid
Summary: The killing curse may not have taken his life, but it did take away the life he was supposed to live. With no magic and his left leg paralysed, Harry is seen as little more than Voldemort's final victim. But being a wizard isn't the only way to be powerful, especially in a world of Pokemon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - Harry Hopper**

I always hated my crutches. When most students got crutches after an injury they simply became more interesting for a few weeks, and most seemed to enjoy the attention they received from being so noticeable. They usually ended up with underarm crutches and a cast or a brace, and after a few weeks they were as good as new, nary any sign at all that they were once imperfect.

My crutches were never like that. They fit around my forearm with a handle for me to grip for stability, set specifically for my size and build. They weren't the type of crutches that a hospital gives out for a broken bone or short-term mobility loss. The forearm crutches meant to most people what they always meant to me - _permanent_. They were a symbol and a reminder of the worst night of my life, even if it's a night that I couldn't remember. Combined with the lightning bolt scar on my forehead, and I was only ever seen as the final victim of Lord Voldemort.

That's especially true of those who knew my story. Outside of Little Whinging, I knew that some people lauded me as a hero, the only person in the world to survive the killing curse. But nobody who met me ever saw me as a hero. My left leg was all but useless, a relic of the killing curse that never killed me. It may have looked fine physically, but I'd been assured by both doctors and mediwizards that the damage was permanent. Beyond that, I was terribly thin - and not the kind that would have suggested any sort of fitness or athleticism.

Worse still was what wizards saw when they looked at me. I was born with magic, but whatever happened when Voldemort cast that fateful curse managed to strip even that away from me, too. I could see the pity in their eyes when they saw me - like I'd lost the very thing that made me human, like I'd lost my very soul. I could see it even then as I was leaving school, reflected in the eyes of the people that saw me every day. I was Harry Potter, the cripple.

"Harry Hopper, the boy who lived to be a cripple!"

Or, I was Harry Hopper, the boy who lived to be a cripple. A not so creative nickname devised by my not so smart cousin. Still, it was accurate enough that it always bothered me immeasurably, which of course meant that Dudley and his gang of cronies repeated it as often as they could.

"How long does it take you to get home, hopping on one leg like that?" Piers Polkiss added, following behind Dudley.

It was phrased as a question, but after so many years of tormenting me on the way home from school, Piers knew that it genuinely did take me a fair effort to get back to the Dursleys. Dudley and his friends all knew as well as I did myself that it was the most arduous part of my day. Ten blocks may not have been all that far for most people, but most people didn't have to struggle with only one working leg, and any who did would most certainly have had people to come and pick them up.

In my experience, and I had a lot of it, answering his question was only going to make things that much worse. Fortunately, I'd gotten quite used to being able to comfortably ignore them - though, that of course never meant that they were going to ignore me, too.

I was almost knocked onto my face when a torrent of cold water struck me from behind. It wasn't that it was a particularly forceful attack, but the surprise was well enough for me to be stumbling forwards, especially since I had a bung leg. I only just managed to get my crutch to the ground in order to stop from falling, the awkward movement causing Dudley and his friends to all cackle like fools.

_So now they_ _'re using their Pokemon…_

Sure enough, when I turned my head, Piers had released his Pokemon, a small and round blue creature with a zigzag tail ending in a ball around the same size as it's main body, almost like a squishy blue flail. It had a happy, innocent smile on its face, like what it had just done was just a joke. Of course, I didn't blame the creature. Like most Pokemon I'd seen, it was just doing as it was bid by it's trainer.

I let out a small sigh and continued towards the Dursleys house, urging myself to try and go faster even knowing that it was impossible. Like every other day, I had no choice but to deal with their torment.

"C'mon Dudley, get your Growlithe out!" Piers yelled out excitedly.

As Dudley sputtered out a no doubt terrible excuse as to why he shouldn't, I finally had a reason to smile. Dudley should have by rights been the talk of our year group, with a powerful yet adorable Pokemon like Growlithe to call his own. Yet, that would only have been true if he had any semblance of control over the little fire dog, and he absolutely didn't.

Most of the time I'd seen Dudley try to give it any order, it had simply turned around and gone to sleep instead. There was even one time when the fire Pokemon had decided to throw a few embers towards his master when he finally got fed up with his orders, chasing him around the yard with spits of fire and irritated little barks.

"C'mon, Dudley…" one of the other boys tried. "Show us Growlithe."

From the look on Dudley's face that I managed to catch out of my peripheral vision, he was definitely going to give in to the pressure. How people see him always seemed to be the most important thing to my cousin, and he wasn't going to want to disappoint his sycophantic friends. With a single button press of the Pokeball hanging at his waist, Dudley's Growlithe appeared from a blobby mass of white energy.

It looked as healthy and formidable as ever, covered with vibrant orange with black stripes, with an occasional tuft of cream colored fur. The claws on it's forepaws were long and sharp, much like I knew were the teeth in his mouth. He was a decent size, too, coming up to perhaps just below Dudley's hips at full height, with stocky legs and a muscular body.

Unlike when most Pokemon are called though, Growlithe didn't look to be expecting an order from Dudley, or more likely, didn't care and wouldn't obey if there was one. His eyes scanned slowly around the street before he opened his jaw wide with a long yawn.

But Dudley never was very bright, and despite a thousand attempts to get Growlithe to obey, for some reason he seemed to think that it would be different this time. "Growlithe, bite him!"

Slowly, Growlithe looked up at Dudley, then slid his gaze towards where he was pointing, straight at me. He looked back at Dudley for a brief moment before stretching out his front legs and laying his head lazily on the pavement.

"Growlithe, I said bite him!" Dudley yelled again, this time with much more feeling. This time, Growlithe didn't even bat an eyelid in response. Even knowing logically that it was a bad idea, I just couldn't help my reaction - I laughed.

_Stupid, stupid!_ Impossible or not, I urged myself once again to crutch faster away.

"Think that's funny do you, Hopper?" Dudley snarled after me. There was a brief flash of red, probably Dudley recalling Growlithe back to it's Pokeball. I didn't turn to answer him, still trying to get away as fast as I could manage, which was in reality probably not much faster than a normal persons normal walking speed. I could hear Dudley storming up behind me, and I couldn't help the cringe from appearing on my features when I knew what was about to happen. One of Dudley's favorite games in the world seemed to be making me fall, something that was almost laughably easy considering my issues with mobility.

As he had done a million times before, Dudley kicked the crutch in my hand to the side as soon as it struck the ground, sending me sprawling on to the paved path beneath, thankfully on my right side. It might not be painful to the touch or have a physical wound, but landing on the cursed damaged leg was entirely more painful than landing on any other limb.

"At least I've got a Pokemon, cripple," Dudley sneered. "You're never going to have one. Not a wizard… not a trainer… what good are you to anyone?"

It was far from the first time I'd heard something like it, but still each word was like a hard blow to the head. Dudley's normal insults never phased me all that much, be he tended to pull out his more disparaging words whenever driven to anger. It wouldn't have been an issue were he not absolutely correct.

If I still had my magic, I'd have been at Hogwarts several years earlier, and I could have actually _made_ something of my life. Instead I was labeled a squib, and was forced into living in the muggle world. For most squibs, it wasn't as serious a blow, since they could always turn to some sort of career in Pokemon. I'd been denied even that, with Vernon having refused to sponsor me for a Pokemon license.

Tears welled in my eyes, despite how much I tried to prevent them, and I tried to get back to my feet. Instead, Dudley kicked my crutch again, and I fell back until I could almost taste the cement underneath me.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" a gruff, angry voice shouted from nearby.

Anybody else might have felt like they were about to be rescued, but the new voice had me immediately tensing up. No doubt this mystery adult, and it certainly sounded like an adult, would chastise Dudley for bullying. It sounded good in theory, but wouldn't be, in reality. Best case scenario would be Dudley getting told off before the stranger leaving, in which case Dudley would have complained to his parents, and I would get in trouble. Really, there was no way it could work out in my favor. Vernon and Petunia would find out somehow, and I would be in trouble for the embarrassment of it all.

_Great. Just great. _

Dudley backed off a little, looking wary as the man approached in front of them. I couldn't see the man's face, but his clothes were shabby, and patched, and familiar. Even with only a suspicion of who it could be, a small smile began to spread over my face.

"Who are you?" one of Dudley's friends asked.

The man let a wand drop into his hand from a holster assumedly kept on his forearm under his patchy sleeve.

"Keep bullying this young man here, and you'll find out the hard way who I am. I wonder how you all would look with green skin and covered with blisters?" he said, his voice commanding and threatening.

None of Dudley's friends were any brighter than Dudley himself, but even they weren't stupid enough to mess with a wizard. The second they saw the wand they scattered, leaving me helpless on the path.

"Alright there, Harry?" the man asked, gentler now.

I almost laughed out loud when I head the more soothing tone of his voice. He sounded very different when he was angry, but I was sure then of who it was. Sure enough, when I lifted my head further, it was to look into the lightly scarred face of Remus Lupin.

"Hullo Remus," I smiled the first genuine smile that I had in weeks.

* * *

"Are you sure that you're alright?" Remus asked, taking a seat across from me in our usual booth at the local ice-cream parlor. As per usual, Remus had ordered a double chocolate sundae, topped with little flakes of chocolate and further smothered in a rich chocolate sauce. It looked as sickly sweet as it always did, enough that I could practically taste it from across the table.

"Of course," I said in a deflection of the question. "What's with you and chocolate?"

Remus simply raised an eyebrow at my rapid change of topic. For a brief second he looked worried, but quickly covered it with a smile. "According to muggles, chocolate releases endorphins, and endorphins are meant to make you happy. We could all use a little more happiness in our lives, wouldn't you say?"

_Maybe I should have ordered chocolate_ _…_

Remus shot me another concerned glance at me after that, but I just smiled back. Most of our monthly meetings went the same way, with Remus worrying like a mother hen and me pretending like life was just grand. I had no intention of stopping that pretense, either. My daily life was already filled with people treating me like a poor little victim, or otherwise bullying me relentlessly, so the last thing I wanted was my one meeting with Remus a month to be the same.

"So, how's school?" Remus asked after a short and exasperated sigh. No doubt he knew that pushing me to really open up was a pointless endeavor.

"Schools fine," I said noncommittally. "Kind of boring, though."

Remus let out a short laugh. "I remember feeling the same when I was at school. I always did quite well, but sometimes I'd rather have been doing just about anything else."

I had to suppress a surge of anger at that. Bored at Hogwarts? I would have given just about anything to have the chance to go there, and Remus has the hide to say that he was bored? How could magic ever be boring?

"In fact we were doing other things most of the time," Remus continued, oblivious to my sudden anger. "We spent more time just exploring the castle and playing pranks than we ever did studying."

It's nothing that I hadn't heard from him before, but whether they were repeated stories or not, I wasn't about to turn down hearing stories about my father. Merlin forbid that Petunia was ever going to tell me any stories about my parents, so I would take whatever I could get.

"What kind of pranks?"

Remus shrugged. "Looking back, many of them went too far, but I can't deny how much fun we had with them. One time we slipped a potion into a Slytherins pumpkin juice at breakfast to make his voice high-pitched. It took the potions professor nearly six hours to cook up the antidote."

I grinned wide, unable to picture anything but the same situation only with Dudley in the leading role. I'd have given anything to see such a thing. It would definitely have taken him down a peg or three.

"Merlin, your mother was so angry with us that day," Remus added quietly.

"Angry?" I asked, "wasn't she friends with you?"

Remus laughed out loud and shook his head. "Oh, I think she absolutely hated us to be honest. She had the right of it too. Immature idiots we were back then, and it didn't help that James was always mooning after her. It wasn't until he started to smarten up in our final year that Lily finally warmed to us."

"That long?"

"Oh yes. She used to tear strips off us for being so stupid. I remember one particular stinging hex that had James limping about for nearly a fortnight, and moping for even longer. She was perhaps the kindest woman I ever met, but you'd have been an absolute fool to cross her," Remus said, his eyes suddenly sad and wistful.

"I wish I'd known them," I said quietly. As happy as the stories always made me, it was always impossible to ignore the images that popped into my head. How different would my life have been if they were still alive? Would I have been at the same school? Would I have friends?

_Would I be happy?_

"I never saw them happier than the day you were born, you know. I'll never forget the way they looked at you - like you were suddenly the focal point of their entire universe," Remus said. "That kind of love never really goes away. As long as we remember them, they're right here with us."

It was easy for him to say, but it was hard for me to feel it. It was a nice thought, I could acknowledge that much, but I knew better than anything that my parents weren't right there with me. I was reminded of it every day when I woke up in the cupboard under the stairs. More than that, how was I supposed to remember people that died when I was a baby? More than once it felt like I loved the_ idea_ of my parents rather than my parents themselves.

"Harry," Remus said, distracting me from me pointlessly spinning my spoon in my ice-cream. "I know that things aren't easy for you…"

"Stop," I said forcefully.

Remus shook his head slightly, obviously determined to say what he had to say. "I just… if there's anything I can do to make things better…"

My patience cracked like a tree struck by lightning. We'd been down this route so many times in our meetings over the years, and it had become very clear in that time that there was nothing Remus could do to help me. Or, at the very least, nothing that Remus was _willing_ to do.

"Can we not talk about this again?" I snapped, returning to spinning my spoon in my quickly melting sundae.

It wasn't that I didn't appreciate Remus' wanting to help me, only that the conversations always ended with the both of us upset. It was very well established that my situation wasn't about to change, no matter how much either of us wanted it to.

Out of my peripheral vision I could see the hesitation on his face. No doubt he didn't want to rock the boat either, but I knew that Remus felt just as powerless as I did. Perhaps in saying something he felt like he was at least trying to make a difference.

"You know I would take you in an instant," Remus tried slowly, "Only…"

"Only the Dursleys are my legal guardians," I cut him off with a sigh. "I know. Remus, just let it go."

"It's not just that. With my condition-"

"As if I care that you're a werewolf!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. It was one thing to argue that he couldn't do anything about my situation because of the Dursleys legal rights, but entirely another to suggest it was because he thought I would care about him being a werewolf. It made me furious to think he could think so little of me.

Though he must have known that everyone was now looking our way, thanks to my little outburst, Remus didn't flinch or take his eyes off me. I could see the other customers in the parlor look at him with faces full of fear and disgust, but Remus still didn't tear his vision away from mine.

"That is not what I was going to say," Remus said forcefully. "Please, if you could just calm down and let me say my piece… This isn't easy for me, either. I was going to say that even if I wanted to challenge your aunt and uncle for guardianship, the law wouldn't let me because of my condition."

_Oh. _

Behind Remus a man clutched the hand of his young son tight and left the parlor, glaring at Remus is disgust the entire time. My crutches weren't really intended to be weapons, but I was certain that they'd hurt any idiot well enough were I to whack one atop the head. I was very sorely tempted to test that theory.

"So you might be right," Remus conceded, either missing the bigoted fool or simpling ignoring him. "Perhaps there's nothing I can do to change things, but you're my family whether we live under the same roof or not."

"It's a nice thought," I said slowly, my anger evaporating away. "But I still have to go home to the Dursleys after this."

Remus shook his head and leaned forward over the table, his light green eyes boring into mine. "No, not home," he said. "Only you get to decide where your home is."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Whatever new tactic Remus was trying to cheer me up, it wasn't really working. Normally he'd have stuck to the same old pointless spiel about willing to do anything to help me, but this time he was pushing far more than usual.

"So your point is that I don't actually have a home?" I asked sarcastically. There was a small part of me that was fully aware of how stubborn and obtuse I was being, but I was just so sick of these conversations. The best part about meeting Remus once a month was that it allowed me to forget the misery of my day to day life, but the more he brings up unsolvable problems, the less enjoyable the meetings were becoming.

A look of hurt flashed across his features, but he recovered quickly. "My point is that you have a home with me. We may not be able to live under the same roof, but I need you to know how important you are to me. I can't stand the idea of you going back to those people and thinking that there's no-one in the world who cares for you. I care for you."

All semblance of anger and annoyance went out the window at that, and I was at a loss for words. Life still sucked, no doubt, and nothing was really about to change, but it was still nice to hear out loud that at the very least, somebody would notice were I to fall straight off the face of the earth. But, having never had anyone say anything quite like it to me before, I really had no idea how to respond.

"You don't have to say the same," Remus said slowly, filling the awkward silence his statement had made, "you only see me once a month, and-"

"You're my home," I said with a tone of absolute finality. It was an easy thing to say, in the end. Even if the only qualifier in the decision was that Remus was the only person in the world who cared for me, it felt like enough. The world still didn't feel fair, and everything still prevented us from living together like family, but I was used to life not being as it should be. At least this meant that I wasn't really alone.

* * *

I was expecting the berating of a lifetime when I walked through the front door of the Dursleys home.

_But not my home._

After my meeting with Remus, it was a strangely comforting thought. Privet Drive had never truly felt like home anyway, but now it felt different in some way than it did before. Perhaps it was the thought that one day I would legally be an adult, and nothing could have kept me there. I was definitely thinking that one day, Remus and I could become a real family. For right then, it was nothing but a roof over my head.

But until then, I was going to have to deal with my uncles fury. Dudley had undoubtedly told them about Remus threatening him by then, and I was going to have to bear the brunt of it, as ever.

I let out a sigh of relief as I crutched my way into the living room past the entrance and into silence and darkness. Either the Dursleys weren't home, or they were already in bed. Either way, it was a victory.

_Was the car in the driveway?_

Remus had side-apparated me right to the front door before bidding me farewell and cracking away into the night, so I had to look out the window to actually check whether they were home. The car wasn't there, which meant that they'd most likely gone out. That wasn't as good news as if they had simply gone to bed, since it meant that Vernon would come for him the minute he came through the door. At least if he were to wait until the following day, some of Vernon's formidable anger might have dissipated.

In the end I decided it was probably safest if I just locked myself away in my cupboard. But first - supplies. Living fourteen years in a house where nobody bothered to look out for my wellbeing had made me rather more thrifty and resourceful than most other boys my age. It was rare that the Dursleys would leave me alone in their house, but when they did, I made sure to take advantage.

Both Vernon and Dudley were big eaters, so they generally didn't notice when a little food was missing. I was careful not to take too much anyway. Even the idea of Vernon finding my stash under the loose floorboard in my cupboard was unthinkable. He was angry enough for any of the small offenses he decided that I had made, but the thought of being caught stealing food from him was utterly terrifying.

I crutched my way towards the kitchen, eying the red and white ball left on the bench as I passed. Vernon always took his Pokemon with him wherever he meant, so there was no doubt that it was Dudley's Growlithe inside. I rolled my eyes in disgust. How was it that a boy like Dudley, who clearly didn't appreciate his Pokemon, was allowed to have one, and I had to go without? Just another unfair facet of my life.

I was poking my head into the pantry when I heard the familiar creak of the front door swinging open. Startled, I cracked my head hard atop the roof of the pantry, stumbled on my bad leg and fell back towards the kitchen bench.

"Uncle Vernon," I said, blinking away my blurry white vision from the bump to the head, "I didn't think-"

Even with my vision compromised, it was easy to see that it wasn't Vernon or Petunia who had entered. For one, neither of them was as large as Vernon, and the way that they simply stood across the room from me was quite unlike anything I'd ever seen my aunt or cousin ever do before. They were more likely to storm across the room and scream in my face than ever stay silent.

"You're not uncle Vernon," I said.

"There's the scar," one of the men said. "Can you believe it, Avery? This broken runt of a kid defeated the Dark Lord?"

_The Dark Lord? But the only ones who call him that are Death-Eaters_ _…_

"Hard to believe. Kid can barely even walk and he's meant to have defeated the most powerful wizard in the world? Dunno that I believe it," the other one said in response.

_What do I do?_

Death-Eaters were never meant to be able to get close to me under any circumstances. It was Dumbledore himself who told me it was impossible. Evidently, he was wrong.

"Almost seems like we'll be putting him out of his misery, doesn't it? No magic to defend himself, a bum leg and a skinny body like that? We're basically doing him a favor."

I instinctively ducked behind the bench when I saw the wands appear in their hands, just in time to avoid a barrage of spells that sailed over my head and smashed into the kitchen wall tiles behind me. My crutch was knocked out from underneath me and I fell hard onto the ground as debris from the kitchen wall fell in pieces over my body.

The sound of it was unbelievable, like a series of mini-explosions sounding right over my head, until all I could hear was a loud ringing in my ears. Pieces of tile and now food from the smashed fridge rained down over my prone form, some of the sharper pieces cutting along exposed skin on my arms, legs and face.

And then it stopped. I couldn't hear anything beyond the ringing in my ears, but the flashing lights from the spell-fire had stopped. Before I could move, there was a flash of movement in front of my eyes, a blur of red and white that landed on the ground in front of my face.

It was Growlithe's Pokeball, and it was open.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When my ears finally stopped ringing, it was only to hear the two men laughing from the other side of the room. By then, Voldemort had been gone for nearly fourteen years, so it was probably one of the only chances the men had to indulge in their more destructive sides, and clearly they were intending to make the most of it.

The kitchen was an absolute wreck. The fridge door behind me was hanging from a single hinge, the food inside blasted all over the floor, and over me myself. The wall tiles were all but obliterated, and there was a hissing sound coming from the broken kitchen sink as water sprayed upwards in a rainbow hued mist.

"What's wrong, Potter? No magic to fight back?" One of the men taunted, laughing so hard it was a wonder he wasn't literally cracking a rib.

All the while, Growlithe's Pokeball rolled empty on the floor, and I simply watched it with rapt attention.

_Where is Growlithe? Did he get hurt from all the magic? Or maybe he_ _'s run off…_

I could hardly blame if it did. Pokemon were meant to be smart, and staying to defend me would hardly have been a smart decision. Still, Growlithe was probably about the only chance that I had of getting out of there alive, so the thought of it still stung.

_What am I going to do?_

Even without magic, and even without being able to defend myself physically, there was no way they were going to get me without a fight. My parents never went down without a fight, and I wouldn't, either. I grabbed a hunk of thick brick that had dislodged from the wall in the attack and landed nearby. With a deep breath I moved to stand, drawing back my thin, weak arm to try to throw it at my attackers.

I never got the chance.

Whatever spell was used on me, it was completely agonizing. I was magically lifted into the air, feeling like gravity had tripled in strength and was pressing on me from every side and crushing me, as though I was being buried alive by magic. I screamed from the agony of it, though it came out as more of a pained cough.

Still the two men continued to laugh, and now, lifted into the air like I was, I could see them. The one whose wand was pointed at me had slightly yellowing teeth in his mouth, with pale, pallid skin and graying hair that had begun to recede up his scalp. His sadistic smile was the stuff of nightmares.

The other man, though he was smiling cruelly like his partner, didn't look anything like the sort of criminal one would expect to follow Voldemort. He was wearing long, clean black robes over a neat shirt and tie, and had a handsome face with a head of rich dark hair. He looked more like a merchant banker than a Death-Eater, but he was definitely enjoying the torture as much as his more feral companion.

"Not so tough without mummy and daddy's magic, are you, Potter?"

I could only whimper in response. With as much pain as I was in, and knowing there was nothing that I could do to get out of it, I accepted the fact that I was going to die. It wasn't even that sad of a thought, really, though of course I was still terrified. It was more just that logically I couldn't help but think that nobody would even miss me.

_Except Remus. _

But before I could begin to say my mental goodbye's, a small blur of orange rushed into the room and crashed hard into the side of the wizard casting the spell, throwing him across the room and smashing him into the bricks of the fireplace.

At the same time, without his spell to hold me, I crashed back down on my cursed damaged leg, landing in a heap with a pained whine. Now back behind the bench, I could only hear the chaos in the room beyond. There was the smash of glass and a crunch like breaking furniture, but most of all, I could hear the growls and barks of Dudley's Growlithe.

_He_ _'s protecting me…_

I didn't even know if that was quite the truth, but whether Growlithe was protecting me or just the home itself really didn't matter. All that mattered to me was that now I had a chance. Just a small chance maybe, but just a sliver of hope was all I needed.

I slowly struggled back to my feet, using the half smashed kitchen bench as a prop to pull myself up. Once again I looked into the chaos of the living room, though this time things didn't look nearly so dire. Growlithe was bouncing around the room like a ball of living fire, spitting little licks of flame at one of the Death-Eaters while the other struggled to get back to his feet from Growlithe's muscle-bound tackle. The little Pokemon was dodging every spell sent his way from the still standing Death-Eater, his movements sure-footed and spectacularly fast.

But it wasn't going to last forever. Now that they're aware of him, Growlithe can't manage to land any attacks, and though he's avoiding the wizard's spells now, one is bound to hit eventually. In a one on one fight against the attacker, Growlithe could probably fight to a standstill, but with the other wizard slowly getting back to his feet, it would all have been over. Even Dudley's Growlithe, fast and nimble thought it clearly was, wasn't good enough to avoid the spell-fire of two wizards at once.

If I were a wizard myself, rather than a useless squib, maybe the two of us would have had a fighting chance. As things stood though, the only chance of us getting out of the mess was to find a way to escape. But that looked nearly impossible too, since my top speed was about a fast walk for most people. Then again though, even if I could run, the Death-Eaters could have just apparated right to me. No matter how I looked at it, the odds were stacked firmly against me, even with Growlithe's formidable help. If we were going to survive, then I needed to find a way to incapacitate the intruders somehow. I couldn't fight them, for obvious reasons, but I was sure there was some way I could see us both safe.

_Think, Harry!_

Oddly enough, it was my nose that figured out the way forward.

The Death-Eaters might have been able to block the small embers the Growlithe was sending their way, but what about something bigger? Could they have blocked an explosion, too? Perhaps, but what if they weren't expecting it?

It was very far from a foolproof plan, but it was all I could come up with. In the destroyed kitchen, I could smell the faint odor of gas. When I looked back at the cracked and broken kitchen wall, it became clear. In the attack, the gas line into the kitchen had been broken. It was a wonder that Growlithe's smaller fire attacks in the living room hadn't already set off an explosion, but if he were to hit the gas line _directly__…_

"Growlithe!" I called loudly, completely unsure of whether the little fire dog would even listen to me. It had never listened to Dudley, though neither had it ever had to fight for _his_ life. I couldn't help but think about the fact that Growlithe was out there fighting the Death-Eaters, especially since it could have just as easily escaped and left me to my fate. For whatever reason, it had decided to stay and fight, and all that without Dudley even being here to protect. All I could conclude was that it meant was that Growlithe was protecting _me. _

Growlithe retreated to the kitchen to my side, panting heavily. It's gray eyes locked onto mine, it's ears high and alert. In the living room beyond, I could hear the Death-Eater help his fallen companion to his feet, cursing under his breath.

_He_ _'s waiting for an order. _

No matter that I had never seen Growlithe follow an order, this time he'd given me the clear impression that he was going to listen. His tail wagged once, and he barked. Not his name like other Pokemon say, just a general bark, like he was trying to urge my speechless self into action. I wiped tears from my eyes and tried to collect myself.

"Growlithe, we need to make an explosion," I said, uncertain of the right thing to say. How did one even order a Pokemon into action anyway? I knew they were smart, as smart or smarter than most people in fact, but was that the same thing as Growlithe being able to understand everything I said? I didn't know if they were smart smart or just intuitive, and maybe I would have to be more demonstrative about what I wanted him to do.

Growlithe tilted his head to the side in confusion.

_Damn it. We don_ _'t have time for this. _

"That little beast can't protect you, Potter!" one of the Death-Eaters yelled out. "Today is the day that you die!"

That may well have been true, if I couldn't figure out how to get Growlithe to shoot fire at the gas line. Even if I could, I still had to find a way to get us both out beforehand, or the explosion would get us as well as our enemies. If only Vernon had allowed me to get a Pokemon license, I could have attended Pokemon classes with everyone else, and I'd not only have known how to talk to Growlithe, but probably also what he could do - what kind of moves he might have. As it was, I knew only that he could use ember.

"We have to get out of here," I whispered to the Pokemon. "I want you to use ember on that gas line over there." I pointed at the broken line on the wall. "But only after we get out of here, okay?"

"Growlithe!" he barked, wagging his tail from side to side. I had no idea if that meant he had understood me or not, but I didn't exactly have the time to clarify. Besides, Growlithe not understanding the plan was not the immediate problem. Before we could even set off the explosion, we had to get out of the room, and to do that I would have to get out of cover. It was only for a few feet, just the gap between the kitchen bench and the outside hallway, but it would have been ample enough opportunity for the wizards to hit me with a spell. So even with my plan with the gas line, that problem was still insurmountable. Voldemort had assured the victory of his Death-Eaters thirteen years before, and he hadn't even known it.

"I'm sorry, Growlithe," I whispered to my loyal companion, sniffling away more terrified tears. "I'm no use to you. I can't move quick enough to get out of here."

The Death-Eaters could have easily had us both by then, but they were probably more wary now that they knew Growlithe was there. I could still hear them approaching, now quite close to the bench, but only coming step by slow step, in case Growlithe came back out with another ferocious take-down. After seeing him in action, they no doubt knew from experience that he was too fast to hit easily.

But my little Pokemon friend was paying them no mind. He simply padded closer to my crouched form and rubbed his furry, soft face against mine. I'd never felt so much love from another living creature before - not even from Remus. It was the strangest sensation I had ever felt. It was like I could feel what he felt, that he was trying to comfort me - that he wanted to help in any way he could. Still crying, I reached up to grasp my hands in his thick fur coat. I supposed that if I had to die, then this wasn't a bad way to go.

But even if I'd started to give up, Growlithe was far from ready to do the same. When the Death-Eaters poked their heads over the half destroyed bench to see over wands aloft in front of them, he charged. Not directly at_ them_, but towards the bench itself, throwing every ounce of muscle he had into the already splintered wood. What remained of the bench crunched and heaved under the pressure, and debris from the destruction arced towards our enemies in a field of sharp splinters.

Growlithe wasn't done yet. In a flash of movement he was behind me, grabbing my collar in his teeth and dragging me out of the kitchen with as much effort as he could muster. Clearly he had understood exactly what I meant, and I felt a blossom of hope spring to life within me. Growlithe's second surprise attack had given them only seconds of distraction, but it was enough. I used my hands and my one working leg to crawl along the floor like an upside down crab to help him, Growlithe pulling me all the while.

_This could work!_

But the Death-Eaters weren't done yet, either. They'd suffered a couple of cuts in the attack, but were otherwise unharmed - and they looked _furious. _

"Game over," the more feral Death-Eater said, his past cruel smile replaced with a glare that could have matched an Arbok. He lifted his wand up above his hand in a little flourish.

"Avada-"

"NOW GROWLITHE!" I yelled, instinctively moving my hands in front of me, as though that would have been enough to stop the man's killing curse.

It all happened in slow motion. Growlithe let go of my collar and I saw a flash of orange come from over my shoulder and straight towards the gas line in the kitchen. We were probably only half way into the hallway, but most of our bodies were blocked from the hall wall, and I guess that was the best we could hope for. At the same time, I could see the Death-Eater's lips forming the rest of the syllables of the killing curse, and his wand was pointed straight at me. All the while, I began to curl into the fetal position, though I knew any attempt to shield myself either from killing curse or gas explosion was probably doomed to failure.

The explosion happened before he was able to cast the killing curse though, and the boom that reverberated through the house was enough to nearly shatter my eardrums. Growlithe jumped on top of my curled up body, trying to shield as much of me as he could with his more fireproof form.

I blacked out.

* * *

I woke up feeling more stiff and sore than I had in my entire life. Frankly, I was surprised to be waking up at all., Though if I was sore, then that meant at least that I was still alive, and not waking up in some afterlife. I could hear voices too, angry and combative, but I couldn't quite make out what was being said.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a small white room, lying in a bed with the sun shining through the window. I'd been in enough hospitals with doctors looking at my cursed damaged leg to recognize that it's where I was. I wasn't hooked up to any machines or anything though, so things were obviously not as bad as they could have been.

But I didn't much care about damage to myself. I was alive, that was enough, but Growlithe was nowhere to be seen. He was the only reason I was alive, and all I could think about was where he could be. For all I knew, he could have been killed in the explosion, especially with the way he had shielded me with his body.

_I need to know what happened. _

Annoyingly, my crutches weren't by my bed, most probably because they'd been destroyed back at the Dursleys. Still, I wasn't just going to wait in bed for someone to come and tell me what happened. For all I knew, Growlithe could be off wounded in a Pokemon center, and I would be stuck in a hospital room. If I had to crawl out on my elbows, I would have done. Fortunately, that was unnecessary, and I managed to hop out of bed on my good leg and over to the nearby wall for stability. I was fine if I had something to lean on, and could slowly get towards the door out of the hospital room.

I heard yelling as soon as I opened it, and one of the voices was clearly Remus. He was angrier than I'd ever heard him, even more than when he'd threatened Dudley only the day before. Not that I'd heard him angry all that many times, but the sheer force behind his yelling was enough to make me want to cry. In a strange way, it made me incredibly happy. He was yelling on my behalf, after all, and if he was this upset for me, then his caring for me was definitely genuine.

"You're worried about your house? Your nephew was nearly killed!" he shouted at the top of his voice.

I turned out of the doorway to see a small group of people, all of whom I recognized. Remus had his back to me, but he was waving his hands in the air as he shouted, in the face of Vernon Dursley, of all people. My overweight uncle was purple with his own rage, glaring at Remus like he was trying to set him on fire with just his eyes. Petunia was next to him, her hand on Vernon's arm in a show of silent support.

In between them was Albus Dumbledore, a man I'd met only a few times throughout my life, but who assured me every time that I was very important to him. I'd never once believed him. If I was so important to him, then why did he continue to leave me at the Dursleys? I was always there when he visited, so he clearly knew that I wasn't happy there. Yet, here he was, trying to act the peacekeeper between Remus and my aunt and uncle.

"Of course I'm worried about my house! It was destroyed by _you _lot and your stupid war against muggles!" Vernon shouted. "I was _promised _that if I took the boy in, my family would be safe!"

"You stupid, selfish sack of-"

"Harry my boy!" Dumbledore cut off Remus upon seeing me. "How do you feel? Anything I need to tell the doctors and mediwizards?"

"Growlithe," I said, not even bothering to answer his question. "Where is Growlithe?"

Before Dumbledore could even attempt to answer the question, he was nearly pushed completely over by Remus as he barged his way towards me. He grabbed me around the back and brought me to his chest in a near bone-snapping hug. "Thank Merlin you're alright," he whispered in my ear. "I'm so sorry. I should never have left you with those people. I promise I-"

I felt bad for not hugging him back, especially considering how touched I was by his emotion, but all I cared about in that moment was Growlithe. "Please, Remus, is Growlithe okay?" I asked, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

For a moment Remus looked stunned, and I feared the worst had happened, but then he smiled and nodded. "Just fine now. He was hit with some debris and broke a leg and some ribs, but he's been nursed mostly back to health. I owe that creature everything… what he did for you…" Remus was as lost for words to describe Growlithe as I was. The little Pokemon had no real reason to protect me, but he had, and with his own life on the line, too.

"He's okay?" I asked. "You're sure?"

Remus nodded again. "You can rest easy. He's just fine. Such a loyal Pokemon. From what I heard, he still was determined to protect you, even when the aurors arrived. They had to convince him that they were there to help before he finally left your side and collapsed from his own injuries."

_Why. Why did he do so much to protect me?_

I felt like a crybaby, but tears again began to cloud my vision, and Remus hugged me once more. This time, I happily returned it, as tight as he had hugged me. "I was so scared," I whispered quietly, so only he could hear. "I thought I was going to die."

"You're alright now. I've got you. I'm not leaving you ever again," he said quietly in return, holding me tight in his arms.

Despite the fact that nothing had changed, and the Dursleys still had legal custody, I actually believed him. I had no way of knowing how he could possibly keep such a promise, but I knew that he would.

Remus wasn't going anywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dealing with three adults who all wanted different things for me while I recovered in a hospital bed was not my idea of a good time. It certainly didn't help that two of those adults were like two rams butting their heads together, namely Remus and Vernon. I'd never seen Remus in such a furious state. But then, Vernon had that effect on people.

I don't even know what Vernon was arguing about. Unlike Remus and apparently Dumbledore, he didn't particularly care where I ended up, only that he wanted nothing to do with me. Still, he was very passionate about what he_ didn__'t _want, and that was for me to go wherever Remus wanted. Every suggestion Remus made was immediately shot down on the very logical basis of 'absolutely not.' Funnily enough, Remus wasn't all that convinced by that argument.

Then again, Dumbledore didn't seem to like any of Remus' ideas either. The old headmaster was quick to acknowledge the dangers in staying at Privet Drive now that the so called blood wards had fallen, but he clearly wasn't keen on Remus taking me out of the country. He was just another person whose feelings on the subject I couldn't understand. Yes, he was famous for fighting against Voldemort and had taken a special interest in me as a result of what happened when I was a baby, but in what way did that give him the right to try to make decisions about _my _life?

Remus was the one making sense, though I might have been a little biased on that point. He was the only person in the room - or in my life - that tended to think about what _I _wanted. The suggestions he made were made specifically because he knew it was what I wanted; to leave the life I knew and start a new one altogether. It was the only way I could have the life I'd always dreamed of. Forget being Harry Potter - if I was off with Remus I could be whoever I wanted, my past be damned.

Unfortunately, that wasn't likely to happen. The only person with any legal say-so was Vernon, and he was doggedly determined not to let Remus have his way. Even Dumbledore, despite his lack of legal right, was more likely to get his way than Remus. He actually had the respect of both the muggle and wizarding communities, and more besides, Remus was a werewolf. Even if it was determined that being with him was the best move, that fact was enough to make sure it would never happen.

Life really was crappy sometimes.

"You listen here, werewolf!" Vernon was yelling, his stumpy, sausage-like fingers wagging in Remus' face. "Half my house is blown to bits, and my sons Growlithe needed to be rushed to the Pokemon Center. That boy isn't going _anywhere - _not until his idiot parent's gold is being used to pay for my-"

Remus didn't even have to move to shut Vernon up. His eyes were wide and focused, his nostrils flared. Most people thought of Remus as scary upon finding out about his lycanthropy, but when I saw the look he was giving Vernon, I couldn't imagine his werewolf form as being his frightening half.

But as scary as I found Remus in that moment, Dumbledore managed to keep him in place with naught but a meaningful glance. He turned to Vernon, the very picture of perfect tranquility.

"I do hope you aren't implying that any of this could possibly be the fault of your nephew. Such an opinion would be very unflattering should you ever come into any legal trouble."

Vernon blanched slightly, but then he puffed his chest forward with stupid confidence. "What possible legal trouble? I'm a good, tax-paying citizen who has been victimized by you _bloody _wizards. If anything, _you _should be the ones afraid!"

Dumbledore nodded, but I caught a twinkle in his eye and knew immediately that Vernon had fallen into some kind of trap. "You know, it's the funniest thing, but I could swear that when I visited your house earlier today I saw a bedroom in the cupboard under your staircase that looked _very_ lived in. I'm sure I must have been mistaken. You wouldn't mistreat your beloved nephew that way, would you Mr. Dursley?"

Vernon's face twisted in rage. He might not have been one for subtleties, but even he could hear the threat under Dumbledore's kind tones. "Is it my fault that the boy is a cripple and can't get up stairs?"

I was used to such talk, and continued sitting back in the bed, watching with rapt attention. Dumbledore wasn't speaking in any sort overemotional way like Vernon, but still there was no way I could have interrupted him. Even when he spoke softly, his voice had an air of absolute command.

Remus though was another story. It was one thing to hear snippets of Vernon's behavior from me, another to experience it first-hand. He took a step, fists clenched at his sides.

"If I hear one more bad word about Harry from you, I swear-"

"Now now, Remus," Dumbledore cut him off, "Mr Dursley has just had a very traumatic day. I'm sure we can forgive him for any lapses in judgement."

Remus looked momentarily confused, but another quick glance from Dumbledore was enough to keep him silent.

But Vernon was sputtering with rage, despite the fact that Dumbledore almost sounded like he was defending him. "Lapses of judgement? I'll have you know that the boy is in my legal custody! I don't care what happens or where he goes, but I want my fair due for years of ungrateful behavior and paying his way, and now especially for him blowing up half my house!"

Remus' hands were grabbing Vernon by the collar as soon as he finished speaking, and no look or move from Dumbledore was going to prevent him having his say.

"Your fair due? Was it fair that you spent Harry's entire lifetime trying to make him feel worthless and unloved? Was it fair that you had him locked in a cupboard while he wondered what he'd done wrong? Or what about when you gave him the bare minimum treatment for his leg as he grew up, making his life that much more difficult that it ever needed to be!"

I was once again fighting back tears when I finally felt I had to step in. It wasn't that I wanted Remus to relent on my good-for-nothing uncle, only that I knew from experience that feeding into his rage wasn't the right way forward. If we were ever going to be able to convince him to let me go, we had to give in to his demands.

"Remus, stop," I pleaded.

Remus had no intention of stopping, only tilting his head back towards me for the briefest second. "I already knew that you were the lowest piece of filth around, but if I'd known the extent of your treatment of Harry I'd have torn you to pieces years ago."

"Get your hands off me, werewolf!" Vernon roared, grabbing at Remus' wrists.

"Please, Remus," I said.

With another sidewards glance, Remus finally let Vernon go and moved back behind Dumbledore, still seething with anger.

"You could have scratched me, you mongrel! If I didn't have enough reason to contact the police already!"

If that was an opportunity, I definitely missed it. Dumbledore though didn't miss a beat, and his eyes lit up like it was just what he was waiting to hear.

"You are well within your rights to do exactly that, Mr. Dursley. Young Harry here is your legal ward, and any challenge to that guardianship or to your decisions regarding his welfare should be fully investigated by the relevant authorities. I've often had to deal with such cases in my time as Headmaster, and I've found them to be quite diligent in their investigations."

"What are you saying?" Vernon asked with narrowed eyes.

Dumbledore ignored him. "They would interview Harry, most certainly, perhaps Remus or myself as well, given the circumstances. Investigations of your house and Harry's living situation would be all but a surety… You know, they often end in long, drawn out court cases, and given Harry's celebrity status as the boy-who-lived, I daresay the media would eventually get involved as well."

"I guarantee it," Remus growled from behind Dumbledore.

With that, the threat couldn't have been more real. Still, I couldn't see Vernon just backing down. The image of him just turning and walking away? Years of experience had taught me he was much too stubborn for that. He simply stood there, completely at a loss for words. The room was silent for a long moment while Dumbledore and Vernon stared each other down, Vernon red and angry, Dumbledore donning his most innocent and unassuming old man persona.

Then, with a grunt, Vernon finally stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I could hardly believe my eyes. In all my years I had never seen him admit defeat, though admittedly I'd also never seen him go up against someone like Dumbledore. It may not have looked like it but in the end Vernon was utterly outmatched against the elderly wizard.

"I can't believe it," I breathed. "He left."

Dumbledore let out a small chuckle. "Oh, I've faced down worse than your uncle."

That was true enough. Despite simply being known as genuinely the most powerful and talented wizard alive, he was best known for his defeat of Grindelwald and probably the sole reason that Voldemort hadn't been able to achieve his goals. Next to that, my uncle was nothing. Still, Vernon had always been the big immovable object in my way. To see him bested so completely was awe-inspiring.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, his smile vanishing and his tone becoming deathly serious. "I owe you the most solemn of apologies. I was certain that leaving you with your aunt and uncle was the right decision. My hubris blinded me to the fact that such a plan had flaws, and I trusted too easily that you would be well cared for. I can never make up for the childhood that was stripped from you. All I can do is promise that I will do my utmost to ensure that nothing like this ever happens again."

To say that I was taken aback would be a huge understatement. What was I supposed to do with that information? Within a few minutes, Dumbledore had managed to get rid of my uncle before admitting that it was basically all his fault that I ever had to deal with him at all. It would have been easy to blame him for all my misfortunes, and when I was a little younger I probably would have done just that. The fact was though, blaming Dumbledore wouldn't have changed anything.

How many choices did he have, anyway? Sirius Black had betrayed my parents and was in Azkaban. As a werewolf, Remus couldn't look after me regardless of how much he wanted to. The list of people who would have wanted to look after me was short. A physically disabled, squib baby? I guess the logic was that at the very least I would have the blood wards to protect me at the Dursley's, even if that hadn't worked out as planned in the end.

None of that made it any easier to come up with an answer. I wanted to tell him that I didn't blame him, but the words were stuck in my mouth. Turns out that even if Dumbledore didn't have much choice, I simply didn't have it in me to tell him that it was okay that I'd had to spend practically my whole life in a cupboard under the stairs.

"You don't have to say anything," Dumbledore said after a long silence. "I don't expect your forgiveness. All I want is the opportunity to make up for my mistake - starting with involving you in the decision about what happens now."

"You want _my _opinion?" I asked. That concept was as foreign to me as any other. Choices were a luxury I'd never had. Funny though, now that the prospect of having them was in front of me, I didn't know what to do. "I don't…"

Remus sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted a hand to my shoulder. "It comes down to one simple question, Harry. What is it you want?"

Maybe it really was that simple. I had a lot of decisions to make, that much was unavoidable. But maybe just for the time being…

"I want to see Growlithe."

* * *

Dumbledore meant it when he said he would do everything he could to help me. Seeing Growlithe probably wasn't on either to-do lists of Dumbledore or Remus, but neither of them put up any arguments. I was actually surprised by that - not that they would allow me to try and see Growlithe, but that they would happily shelve discussions for the future until after I had.

There were so many more important things we could, and probably should, have been talking about, where I would be going next chief among them. But the fact that seeing Growlithe was the most important thing to me at that moment seemed to be enough for them. For Remus that was run of the mill behavior, but it was definitely unexpected of Dumbledore.

The old wizard managed to get me discharged from hospital within the hour, not to mention procuring a set of brand new crutches for me to use. After that I thought we'd have to spend time tracking the Dursley's down, since they obviously couldn't stay in their now half destroyed home on Privet Drive. But Dumbledore, knower of everything, announced that it wasn't a problem and held out both his arms for side-apparition.

With a pop we arrived at our destination, and as soon as my eyes adjusted to the light, my heart sank.

_Oh, great. _

The Dursley's could have just stayed in a hotel, oh no. They just had to stay at the one place in the world that I probably hated more than any other.

Aunt Marge's house.

The odd thing was, the house and land itself was really quite beautiful. Just a nice old cottage overlooking green rolling hills where she could breed her Snubbull in peace. The problem wasn't the house or the lands itself, but the person living in it.

Vernon was angry and mean, but nothing compared to the older sister he admired so much. Her appearance matched her temperament too, large and purple faced like her brother, complete with a despotic little mustache on her upper lip.

"Uh, we should probably go," I said, fidgeting only moments after arriving in the driveway. "We can wait until my aunt and uncle are back at their own house."

"Nonsense Harry! I'm sure your family will be delighted to see you up and about," Dumbledore chirped happily. I knew he wasn't naive enough to truly think that, not after his apology to me, but it seemed he didn't care. If we weren't welcome, he intended to make it so we were.

"Harry, I'm right here with you, okay?" Remus whispered to me as we moved towards the front door. I think he'd guessed where we were. I'd told Remus about Aunt Marge's place before, how she made me sleep in her musty basement where I struggled to get up and down the thin stairs, and how her Snubbull used to try and knock me off my feet on Marge's orders for target practice.

It was Dudley who answered the door.

"You!" he spat, entirely ignoring Remus and Dumbledore. Instead, he lunged, hands aimed straight for my throat.

But Dumbledore was much faster. His wand appeared in his hand and with a quick flick, Dudley was turned around and launched straight back into the entrance hallway as if he thought his target was standing behind him all along.

Dumbledore's wand went straight back into his robes. Using magic against someone without their permission, _especially _a muggle, was strictly illegal. In this, his reputation and his position as headmaster of Hogwarts didn't matter. Still, he didn't appear to regret his decision, stepping past the front door and helping Dudley to his feet.

"Are you okay dear boy? We all have our clumsy days, up you get!"

Dudley was deathly embarrassed, and so he did what he always did when life wasn't going his way.

"Mum!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Petunia came rushing out of the kitchen and towards the front door, paling considerably when she saw us.

"Come to destroy another house?" Petunia asked in her shrilly tones.

Funny thing about Petunia though - I wasn't the least bit frightened of her. Oh sure, she tried to look tough and sound stern, but she'd never actually _done _anything to make me fear her. Dudley and Vernon were quite physical, but Petunia was thin as a rake, and I doubt she'd have had much impact even if she _were_ like her son or husband. Not that I'm saying I was at all fond of her. She took great joy in my humiliation, whether it be from having to wear clothes three sizes too big or from that time she took a razor to my head to avoid having to pay for haircuts. She was a hateful woman, just not scary.

That meant that when I heard a barely audible bark from the backyard behind her, there was nothing stopping me from ignoring her like she wasn't there at all.

"That's Growlithe," I said to no-one in particular, heading towards the source of the noise.

"That's _my_ Growlithe, Hopper!" Dudley said, shouldering into me as he stormed past. "Stay away from him!" He pointlessly slammed the sliding glass door shut behind him as he went out into the backyard, only for me to slowly open it back up and get through after him.

Growlithe was still barking, though his back was turned to me. I'd never felt such relief as when I finally laid eyes on him. Not too long ago we'd had to fight for our lives and cause an explosion that could have easily taken our lives. But the only visible damage to Growlithe was a white bandage wrapped around his right front leg.

Relief was quickly replaced by anger as I watched aunt Marge order her Snubbull to attack him. There were three of them, and only one of Growlithe. They'd been raised by Marge though, so common decency and any sense of morality might as well not exist in them. They immediately charged at Growlithe, large pink heads low and forward to strike him down.

Growlithe was fast and agile though - I'd seen that first-hand. He easily bounded out of the way of their attacks, twisting in the air and landing behind them. I expected his eyes to be determined like they had been with the Death-Eaters, but instead he looked bored, as though the attacking the Snubbull wasn't even worth the time of day.

"Growlithe, good work!" Dudley cried, running towards the smaller dog Pokemon.

Growlithe snorted and turned his face away, not that Dudley was at all deterred.

But even as Dudley approached, Growlithe's nose was in the air, a curious expression on his face. He sniffed once, following his nose until his gaze finally settled on where I stood outside the back door. He was on his feet immediately, cutting straight underneath Dudley and launching himself off the ground and straight into my chest.

I wasn't expecting it at all, and the force of him knocked me straight onto the ground with a thud. It hurt, landing on my cursed damage leg, but I didn't care one whit. Growlithe was rubbing his head into my chest, a low rumble coming from his throat. I'd done nothing to deserve his affection whatsoever. He was the one who'd saved _me_. I was the dead weight… so why was he so happy to see me?

"You saved me…" I whispered into his fur. "Thank-you."

Growlithe stopped moving, though he was still sitting right on my chest. He stared intently into my eyes, almost like he was trying to figure me out.

"Oho, would you look at that," I heard Dumbledore say jovially behind me.

"Growlithe, return," Dudley said.

Growlithe disappeared in a messy blob of red light, recalled to the Pokeball in Dudley's outstretched hand.

"Hey!" I yelled, sitting back up and glaring at my smug cousin.

"You have no right to be here," Aunt Marge waved a pointing finger at me as she stormed over. "Get off my property!"

"Now now," Dumbledore tried peacefully, "Harry is just here to thank the Pokemon who saved his life."

Petunia moved from behind us to besides Marge. I suppose since Vernon was likely still driving back from the hospital, Marge was a close second to be her comfort and support.

"Well, you've seen him. Now go," she said.

"You listen here-" Remus started, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"Ahh, but that reunion was cut a little short, wouldn't you say?"

As Dudley clutched the Pokeball tight to his chest, Marge stepped forward, ego in tow. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. I want you off my property-"

"Growlithe!" My newest friend and protector was suddenly standing between me and Marge, a low growl emanating from him. Nearby, Dudley was staring confusedly at his now open Pokeball.

"Well isn't that quite fascinating?" Dumbledore said. "I think our little friend here is feeling quite protective of Harry."

"Don't be stupid," Marge said. "This Pokemon belongs to my Dudley." Slowly she reached for the scruff of Growlithe's neck. "He's just-"

Growlithe snapped at her hand, still growling and moving backwards until he was standing close enough for me to touch. The second that my hand touched his head, he stopped growling, twisting his head around to look briefly at me.

That tiny moment was the most profound of my entire life. It wasn't like I was reading his mind or anything, more just that _understanding _passed between us. This Growlithe had no intention of staying with Dudley. He'd already decided who was to be his trainer, and for whatever reason, he wanted it to be me.

"Remus… Growlithe wants to come with me," I whispered as he came over and helped me back to my feet. "I don't know how I know - I just-"

Remus gave me an inadvertent wink. "Just leave it with us."

I was starting to think that leaving with Growlithe was the plan all along.

"Growlithe, return," Dudley tried again, shooting the thin red beam from the Pokeball. Growlithe moved effortlessly out of the way.

"You're _my _Pokemon! Get in your ball!"

Growlithe barked, but otherwise stayed by my side.

"You'll give that Pokemon back right now, boy!" Marge shouted, probably sounding more like a bark than Growlithe himself.

On a normal day, I'd have given in immediately. Years of experience had taught me the consequences of disobeying, especially when they were given in anger. But it wasn't a normal day. Actually, it was about as far from normal as any day I'd ever lived. Now, I actually had support. I had people who would stand for me, and that made all the difference.

I reached for Growlithe again. "No! He doesn't want to go with you."

Vernon arrived at Marge's house at the precise moment that I decided to make my stand. It was probably a good thing, in the end. Despite that Marge was probably scarier, Vernon had given me more reason to fear him over the years than he had. If I'd known he was there, I might never have voiced my opinion.

"No! It's bad enough that we aren't getting any money for all the _crap _we've had to put up with from you! You are _not _getting that Pokemon!" Vernon roared as he stormed through the back door. "I've had it up to here with you wizards!"

"Oh good!" Dumbledore announced, clapping his hands together and acting like Vernon had arrived in a perfectly good mood. "What excellent timing! Just in time to hear my proposal."

"No. I won't hear another word from you people! Just get out!"

Dumbledore appeared crestfallen, but I was sure it was a farce. "But weren't you the one wanting financial compensation? I think we could benefit all involved parties…"

Vernon was still purple with rage, his mustache twitching as his lips furrowed. "Fine. Out with it. What are you proposing?"

Dumbledore stroked a hand down his ridiculously long beard. "Well, it's more of a _wager, _really. What do you say to a Pokemon battle? Harry would use Growlithe, and perhaps yourself or your dear sister could use one of your Snubbull?"

_What the hell is he thinking! _As much as I wanted to have Growlithe, this seemed like a fool's plan. I had absolutely _no _idea how to conduct a Pokemon battle. Growlithe would probably listen to me, but I didn't even know what moves he had!

"A Pokemon battle… against the boy?" Vernon asked, clearly intrigued.

"Well, his name is Harry, but yes. If Harry wins, Growlithe goes with him. If you win, you get your compensation."

"Do it dad! Growlithe won't even listen to _me_, and I'm his trainer! And Aunt Marge's Snubbull are really strong. She can do it, right Marge?"

Marge looked as confident as her nephew, now smiling smugly. "Oh yes, I can beat him. He's never even been in a battle before! I might not be a battler, but I can beat the boy, you just give the word."

Vernon was definitely interested. "I'd want your word - what we spoke about in the hospital… No investigations. Once this battle is over, we never see, hear from or have to think about the boy ever again."

Dumbledore nodded once. "I think that's a fair request, yes."

"But Remus," I whispered, "I've never battled before!"

Remus winked again, but that was far too cryptic for me. It's not like Dumbledore or Remus could step in with their magic. The Dursley's would know if they did.

It was up to me. If I wanted Growlithe, I had to win. Me. A beginner. A beginner who knew next to _nothing _about Pokemon battles.

_Oh crap._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just wanted to let people know if they don’t already about the discord I created for fanfiction. Its pretty active now, 25 people at current count and active every single day. Just a fun place to talk about fanfiction or anything else thats on peoples minds. Theres a space to recommend fics (and plenty of great ones have already been put up) as well as a space for any of you writers to have people read your own stuff.
> 
> I also post snippets and scenes of stuff Im writing if youre interested (but I spoiler tag everything for those who don’t want to know!)
> 
> https://discord.gg/mT3BTUe

**Chapter 4**

The whole thing was beyond ridiculous. How was I supposed to beat Marge? The woman had a career breeding Snubbull, and despite that it wasn’t a career she’d spent battling, she had still spent most of her life around Pokemon. I on the other hand had only a handful of moments in my entire life which could be considered positive experiences with the strange creatures.

But according to Dumbledore and Remus, it wasn’t a problem. Honestly, neither of them was any help whatsoever. A wink here and a don’t worry there - apparently that was all that was needed for me to win the battle - and it was _imperative_ that I win. I wouldn’t leave Growlithe with Dudley, not after what he’d done for me.

Across the small field that had been chosen as our battle arena stood Marge, her most prized Snubbull standing in front of her. It was the biggest of all of them, pink and big headed like the rest, but I have to admit it did stand out a little from the others. The fangs on her underbite were pearly white, and her fur was just a little more vibrant.

“Are you sure you’re up to this,” I asked Growlithe softly, gazing down at the small white bandage wrapped around his leg. “You’re still injured…”

Growlithe gave me what looked to be his version of a deadpan look before whipping his head down to the bandage with a growl and ripping it off with his teeth. Sure enough, there was nothing underneath but clean orange fur, and he looked as strong as ever. More than strong though, he looked eager - more eager than he ever did training with Dudley.

Growlithe wanted to win as much as I did.

It only served to make my nerves worse. I owed Growlithe _everything, _and I just didn’t have the confidence to make it through the battle to make it up to him. The more I thought about it, the faster my heart beat in my chest, and my breathing became labored. 

“Harry, really, you need to trust us. Or Dumbledore, at least. We _will _get you through this,” Remus said, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t know anything about battling!” I whispered harshly back at him. “It’s not something I can just bluff my way through!”

“But you forget that I’m an educator young Harry!” Dumbledore said happily. “I might be the headmaster now, but I never pass up an opportunity to pass on knowledge to the younger generation. You just follow my lead and everything will be just fine.”

_Follow his lead? _It made me feel a little better, but not much. Even if Dumbledore was going to tell me what to do, it was still my first time. There was so much riding on it… so much pressure.

“Are we having this battle or not, boy?” Marge roared from across the field. “Us mere muggles actually have to _work _for a living, you know,” she added for Dumbledore and Remus’ benefit.

“Of course, Miss Dursley,” Dumbledore said. “It is Harry’s first time after all.”

I had to cringe at his title of her. _‘Miss Dursley.’ _It might be the correct thing to call her in an official capacity, but it just felt wrong - as if she was an innocent young girl and not the beastly bully that she really was.

“Alright now, send Growlithe out,” Dumbledore instructed quietly.

My stomach twisted into knots and fists clenched at my side, I finally ordered Growlithe out into the field. The Pokemon himself barked happily and took one long jump ahead, so he was only a matter of feet from the opposing Snubbull.

“Snubbull, use Headbutt!” Marge ordered the very second Growlithe was on the field. She didn’t wait for any announcement that the battle had begun, apparently happy to resort to cheap tricks to win.

Snubbull was faster than I thought he’d be, rushing at Growlithe at a near blur with his head down in front of him. With a head that size, it’d definitely do some damage.

Growlithe was sent flying back in my direction with a loud yelp, but managed to land on his feet, albeit skidding through the grass. My instinct was to ask if he was okay and stop the battle, but Dumbledore was telling me something different.

“Use retaliate,” he told me softly.

Taking cues from Marge and how she’d ordered Snubbull, I gave Growlithe his first command. “Growlithe, use retaliate!”

Growlithe didn’t hesitate, springing back at the Snubbull with an outstretched paw. Despite how fast I’d thought Snubbull was, Growlithe moved at what must be twice that speed, hammering his paw into Snubbull’s oversized head.

“Make sure to give him lots of encouragement,” Dumbledore advised quietly from his position over my right shoulder.

“Yes! good job Growlithe!” I shouted, pumping a fist up into the air. I couldn’t help the excitement now. I might have been all nerves before, but that was before the battle started. Once it had, my blood was pumping.

I could never understand before how people considered Pokemon training to be a partnership. It was the Pokemon that did all the work, right? But now I saw it differently. The connection between trainer and Pokemon was tangible, almost real enough to touch. If the Pokemon did all the work physically, then it was the trainer’s job to guide that - like two halves of a whole.

The look on Dudley’s face was _priceless. _He was taking it as a complete betrayal - that Growlithe would listen to me when it never had him. “You’re _my _Pokemon! Don’t listen to him, Growlithe!” he was screaming, his purpling face eerily reminiscent of his fathers.

Even as Snubbull climbed slowly back to its feet after the blow, Growlithe was already advancing, sprinting in a wide arc around his opponent.

“Bite,” Dumbledore suggested.

“Use bite!” I shouted, probably more animated than I had ever been in my entire life. Growlithe changed direction then, straight towards Snubbull. The other Pokemon tried to move out of the way, but Growlithe was much too fast. He clamped onto it’s furry arm with razor sharp teeth and reefed his muscular neck to the side, tossing Snubbull across the ground in a tumble of pink limbs.

My mood changed slightly as I watched Snubbull slowly lift itself off the ground. Was it fair that I was using Growlithe to affect pain on this Pokemon, even if it belonged to Marge? It wasn’t Snubbull’s fault that circumstances had led to a battle, and I certainly didn’t want to see it hurt.

“Don’t stop now. Pokemon are made of tougher stuff than we are - see?” Remus approached quietly from behind, pointing over my shoulder to Snubbull.

Sure enough, the Snubbull was back on its feet, looking weary but generally unhurt. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little concerned, but it didn’t change what I had to do to get Growlithe away from the Dursleys.

“Alright Growlithe, now-” I began, ready to take charge even without Dumbledore’s advice.

But now there was a second Snubbull next to the first, and behind it, Vernon with an open Pokeball and a cruel grin painted on his face.

_I should_ _’ve known. _

“You stupid, cheating-” Remus started.

“Give Growlithe some encouragement!” Dumbledore prompted, apparently unperturbed that Vernon and Marge had decided to cheat to win. Remus looked at him like he was insane, but Dumbledore just smiled happily at the both of us and motioned for me to pay attention to the battle.

“You can do it Growlithe. Let’s win this!” I called out to my little orange friend. Growlithe barked his agreement, looking as excited as I felt underneath my nerves and worry. He spread his front legs out in front of him, like he was ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

“Agility,” Dumbledore suggested.

I called it out, and Growlithe leapt into action. Now he was even faster, more resembling the ridiculous speed he’d had against the two Death-Eaters. He seemed to appear and disappear before our eyes, getting closer to the two Snubbull every moment.

“Take down!” I yelled at Dumbledore’s suggestion. Growlithe used every ounce of force his speed and muscular form afforded him and slammed into the intruding Snubbull. The force of the hit sent it soaring into Marge’s Pokemon, while Growlithe was sent tumbling back as well. He got up with a quick shake of his fur, still looking ready and eager.

“You told me you could win this Marge!” I heard Vernon shout whisper at his sister. Marge hissed at him to shut up.

“Bite him!” Vernon roared at his borrowed Snubbull. The Pokemon tottered forward slightly, then broke out at a run towards Growlithe. It was far too slow. Growlithe bounced aside easily, probably twice as fast as the other Pokemon even without agility.

But they had an advantage still. There were two of them, and only one of Growlithe. Sure he was faster, but Marge’s prized Snubbull was definitely faster than the one Vernon was using, and used the distraction to get up behind him. I didn’t even have time to warn him. Snubbull rushed up his blind side, mouth wide open and crackling with electricity.

“Thunder fang!”

Growlithe roared with pain as the energy filled teeth sunk into the flesh on his neck. Unlike when Growlithe had bitten Snubbull though, Marge’s Pokemon had no intention of letting go, letting the electricity course through Growlithe’s wriggling body.

“Fight him Growlithe!” I shouted, fear overtaking my former excitement. “Throw him off! Get him-” My voice cracked. For a brief moment it seemed like things were going to be okay, but now they were looking dire. Vernon’s Snubbull was approaching now too, mouth open wide for another bite to finish Growlithe off.

“I know you can do it Growlithe!” I shouted, throwing as much of myself as I could into the plea.

I don’t know if it was my words or merely Growlithe’s instincts, but whatever it was _worked. _He couldn’t shake free of Snubbull’s ferocious bite, but he opened his own mouth wide and let out a torrent of raging flames. They circled high around the three Pokemon, hotter and hotter until it was a literal tornado of orange flames.

“Your Growlithe is really quite impressive. Fire spin?” Dumbledore said. “It’s been bred well.”

_Your Growlithe. _It sounded good. More than good.

“Do it Growlithe, fire spin!” I yelled, though he probably couldn’t hear me over the roaring flames.

The heat coming off them was sweltering, enough for me to be turning away and sweat to form on my forehead. But I held up an arm in front of my face and watched as best I could. I _had_ to know what was happening. It could be the most important moment of my life. Having Growlithe as a partner would change _everything. _I wouldn’t miss a single second.

The three of us were totally silent as the fire raged on. I couldn’t see them behind it, but it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to think that things were just as tense amongst the Dursleys. This was the end of the battle. Whoever was left standing once the flames subsided would be the winner.

Finally they began to die off, stopping at the bottom until all that was left was blackened grass and a wavy afterimage from the heat. But even through that I could see who was still standing, and if I could jump for joy, I would have.

“YES!” I yelled. I might not have been able to run, but I could crutch pretty fast when the situation demanded it. I didn’t need to go straight to Growlithe though. He was running towards me as well, jumping straight into my arms as I dropped one of my crutches to catch him. He knocked me straight onto my ass for the second time that day. But once again, I didn’t care. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or shout for joy.

I had a Pokemon. Growlithe was my Pokemon.

“Return!” Dudley screamed as the beam of red light struck Growlithe and recalled him back once again. “He’s _my _Pokemon, Hopper! MINE.”

My fists were clenched near hard enough for my fingers to draw blood. I would _not _let this happen. Growlithe wasn’t Dudley’s. He wasn’t even mine, really. He was free, and he wanted to come with me. I would make that a reality, no matter if I had to face down the Dursleys to do it. Growlithe had faced down Death Eaters for me, the least I could do was face my cousin.

“He _hates _you, you idiot!” I yelled. “You treat him like a slave! He doesn’t _belong _to anyone!”

Even as the words left my mouth, it dawned on me just why Growlithe had done what he had with the Death-Eaters. He _understood _me. He’d seen day in and day out how the Dursley’s treated me. Like a slave - not far off the way that Dudley treated him. The only difference was that Growlithe was a showpiece, something to make Dudley look good. But he still wasn’t free, or a true partner, just like I wasn’t really family.

It made me more determined to get my way.

“You’re not getting that Pokemon, boy! You wizards must’ve done something - cheated in some way!” Marge roared, kneeling in the grass in front of her unconscious Snubbull. Amazingly, that seemed to be the worst of her Pokemon’s injuries. Underneath my rage I was in awe of it. How could they have been in the heart of that fiery tornado and only be unconscious and practically uninjured?

“_I _cheated? You used _two _Pokemon!”

“Don’t try to lie to us!” Petunia hissed. “You think I don’t know how sly you wizards can be with magic? My sister showed-”

“Your sister?” Remus cut her off with a snarl. “Lily would be _disgusted _with the way you’ve treated her son. You don’t get to talk about her.” Petunia shrunk as if he’d hit her, her momentary courage turned into fear and maybe even a little shame.

Vernon though, for maybe the first time in his life, didn’t seem keen on sharing his opinion. His lip was twitching at a speed I’d never seen, and he had a large vein popping out on his forehead. Clearly more furious than I’d ever seen him, and yet he no doubt knew he had to honor the deal. Maybe the other Dursley’s thought they had the upper hand, but Vernon wouldn’t forget the conversation at the hospital. He couldn’t get the police involved for fear of an investigation into my living arrangements. In the end, he didn’t seem able to say anything at all. I had no doubt he wanted to, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because he couldn’t trust what he’d have to say.

It didn’t matter. Dudley was struggling with the Pokeball, holding it tight with both hands but struggling for grip. It was shaking in his hands, reefing Dudley one way and the other. Dudley grunted, almost losing his footing as Growlithe struggled inside the ball.

“What the hell is wrong with you Dudley! Let him _go!__” _I yelled.

“He’s _mine,_” Dudley growled again. Even as he said the words, he lost his grip on it just enough for the ball to open.

Growlithe appeared in a blob of white light and shook his body from head to toe. He turned quickly on Dudley, jumping up at his hands to snap the Pokeball out of his grip. Holding it in his mouth, he sort of trotted casually over towards me and dropped it at my feet.

“You’re a _thief, _Hopper,” Dudley was shouting, though by now Vernon was holding Dudley’s arm from running over to retrieve the Pokeball for himself. “You can’t steal my Pokemon!”

But I’d spent years ignoring Dudley, and now that Growlithe was out of his Pokeball, my anger had quickly subsided. Now I was more interested in the Pokemon itself. He was staring up at me with wide dark eyes. It was almost like he was asking me himself if I wanted to be his trainer. After a moment he moved his head down again and nudged the ball forward with his nose.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to force you… You could be free if you wanted,” I asked. I almost felt like a fool for asking. This was my opportunity to have a different life - one that I’d always dreamed of. But in the end, I wouldn’t be going back to the Dursley’s either way, and my life would be different regardless. I just wanted Growlithe to have an actual choice like I did. He’d been just as trapped with the Dursley’s as I had. If he was going to come with me, it had to be his choice, or not at all.

But Growlithe just nudged the ball forward again, panting happily with his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. That was as much answer as I needed. Smiling hard enough to near split my face in two, I reached down to pick it up.

Its not often in life that people can pinpoint the exact moment that everything changed. But that’s exactly what it was. Life changing. It made me a Pokemon trainer, rather than merely the crippled squib boy-who-lived. Now my future had real, true options.

“Well now, I’d say everything has been quite well resolved, wouldn’t you?” Dumbledore happily asked the Dursleys. Vernon was holding a hand over Dudley’s mouth now, still with his mouth firmly closed, as though someone had taken super-glue to his lips. Petunia was sulking behind him, and Marge was cradling the unconscious Snubbull in her beefy arms, murmuring something under her voice.

“You have a lovely property Miss Dursley,” Dumbledore continued, “but I think we might’ve overstayed our welcome. Goodbye now!”

Growlithe poked the white button of his Pokeball with his paw and disappeared inside just as Dumbledore and Remus reached my side. Gripping onto the ball with everything I had, I took Dumbledore’s outstretched arm, and the image of the Dursley’s swirled away.

* * *

“This isn’t what we agreed, Albus,” Remus growled mere seconds after reappearing. We weren’t somewhere I recognized, though given that my life only included school and home, that wasn’t surprising. Dumbledore had brought us to a small village, unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was all cobbled streets and small stone cottages, and some of the buildings looked just _slightly_ lopsided.

“I understand your disagreement, Remus,” Dumbledore explained. “But we don’t need to make big decisions right away, do we? Surely for now we can just find Harry somewhere safe to stay until we can come up with a more permanent arrangement.”

That actually sounded good. I’d had a big enough day already with having to battle for Growlithe’s freedom. I didn’t want to have a big argument or discussion about what the future held. It was enough that Growlithe had come with me. As long as I had somewhere to stay that wasn’t with the Dursleys, I was fine.

“You can’t mean for him to stay at Hogwarts,” Remus argued, his face morphing into a frown. “It’s not fair to Harry to place him in a school full of magic.”

_Hogwarts? _

“Well not Hogwarts _per se_,” Dumbledore said cryptically.

But I stopped listening at that. I could see it now, off in the distance. Hogwarts. Just as magnificent as I’d imagined it would be, all towering stone spirals with peaks so high they threatened to reach out and touch the sky. All that against a beautiful backdrop of green rolling hills under a clear blue sky. It wasn’t an image I was likely to forget anytime soon.

Under other circumstances I’d already have been there for three years. Just a day ago it would’ve made me feel bitter and disappointed. But now I had Growlithe’s Pokeball firm in my hand. My heart was full of hope, not despair. It would take more than the image of the life I could’ve had to shake that out of me.

“What do you think?” Remus pulled me from my fascinated daydream.

“Sorry, what?”

“Of Dumbledore’s idea?” Remus prompted, “to have you stay on the grounds of Hogwarts, but not as a student and not in the castle itself?”

It’s funny. Just that morning I’d been questioning Dumbledore’s intentions. I’d have been ready to shut down any and all of the elderly man’s suggestions under the impression that only Remus had my wellbeing in mind. But after his help in getting Growlithe I couldn’t help but be less wary. The fact was, he genuinely cared.

_On the grounds but not in the castle?_

“There’s someone I think you should meet,” Dumbledore interrupted before I could give an answer. “He works as groundskeeper for Hogwarts; I think you’d get along splendidly.”

Now I was definitely hesitant. From the sounds of it, Dumbledore wanted me to stay with some stranger - some groundskeeper of Hogwarts that I knew next to nothing about. I could see him now, some old and likely unfriendly janitor type to watch over me when nobody else was around. Didn’t sound great to me.

“Uhh, I’m not sure...” I said slowly, looking to Remus for support. Surprisingly he looked far less combative now, perhaps even considering the idea.

“I’m not agreeing to anything unless Harry does,” Remus said firmly, but then he turned to me with soft eyes. “But I have to admit its not such a terrible idea. We need time to come up with some real options, and now that its out there, I can’t think of a better person for you to stay with than Hagrid.”

But I could.

“What about _you?__” _I said. “I thought that-”

I cut myself off before I could finish. The thought was stupid anyway. It’s not like the laws regarding werewolves had changed any, or we wouldn’t need to discuss anything at all. It was just too easy to think that things would work out that way - that I could just go home with Remus and have a real family life. With his condition, it was impossible, and the wretched look on Remus’ face was enough to confirm that.

“Hagrid is probably one of the nicest people you could ever meet,” Remus promised, his tone entirely apologetic. “And I’m not going _anywhere. _Until we can find a permanent arrangement, I’ll be staying here in Hogsmeade.”

_Hagrid. _A strange name, but then Remus and Albus weren’t exactly common names either. Getting used to being in the wizarding world, even if it might only be for a short while, would be quite an adjustment.

“Hagrid is a Pokemon trainer himself, you know,” Dumbledore said. “He’s very knowledgeable, and he’d be _delighted _to teach you all he knows.”

It was an obvious bribe to get me to agree, but that didn’t matter. Becoming a real trainer was the important thing. Understanding the world of Pokemon was my best bet to find my place in the world, so it was vital that I learn. More than that, if Remus was only a stones throw away every day…

“Alright then,” I decided. “Let’s go meet this Hagrid.”


	5. Chapter 5

**I know, you’ve probably read this message before, but just a friendly reminder about the fanfiction discord I’ve got got going. 35 people in and I’ve made some great friends there. Plenty of fic recommendations for Harry Potter or any number of fandoms, and a section for other fanfic writers to ask for help. **

**https://discord.gg/mT3BTUe**

**Chapter 5**

To some it might seem strange that Hagrid’s small hut on the edge of the grounds felt more inviting to me than the entirety of the castle itself. Hogwarts was grand and massive and beautiful; it was everything that Hagrid’s hut wasn’t—yet, I saw this as an absolute positive. As grandiose as the castle was, it was also daunting and filled with kids my age: all of whom were likely to know my name and story. Hagrid’s hut, on the other hand, was small and cozy — and _private. _

Outside featured a garden bed that would have made Aunt Petunia faint from shock: plants haphazard in both their placement and in the way they’d been allowed to grow wild and free, covering every inch of available space. It would have looked disheveled and out of place anywhere else, but not here. Here it looked intentional, almost as though their caretaker couldn’t stand the idea of them having boundaries. But that wasn’t even close to the strangest aspect of the house. No, what was most strange was its size. It was utterly bizarre—a one and a half room hut with walls and a door that were at least fourteen feet high? It would have looked odd on a typical urban house, but in a cottage-sized home, it looked especially eccentric.

As I waited for Remus and Dumbledore to knock, my stomach began to twist. Fear of the unknown almost made me wish things could just return to normal. Then again, just the smallest memory of what was considered ‘normal’ in my life had to mean that whatever was waiting for me behind the giant-sized door would be an improvement. At the very least, I had Growlithe now, and that made all the difference in the world.

I ought to have been terrified when I first laid eyes on Hagrid. He stood in his doorway in all his eleven foot glory; he was at least three times as wide as an average sized man. His face was half hidden by a mane of unruly, black hair and a thick beard. Neither Dumbledore nor Remus were short by any measure, but Hagrid’s form loomed over them. He was imposing enough that he could have picked both up in one hand and tossed them across his yard.

But it didn’t take more than a glance at his kind eyes and smile to recognize that there was nothing I had to be frightened of. After greeting Dumbledore, he grabbed Remus’ hand and gave it a hearty shake. His thick fingers reached halfway up Remus’ forearm forming a comfortable grip that clearly showed their friendship. Even his voice was deep and loud, though undercut with a gentle, well-meaning tone.

“Blimey, is that Harry?”

The booming voice directed my way was enough to snap me out of my wandering thoughts. His brown eyes were now set on mine as he stared straight out over the shoulders of Remus and Dumbledore. Hagrid’s eyes might have been full of gentle kindness, but having an eleven foot tall half-giant single me out by name had me wishing I were just about anywhere else on the planet. Still, I held my ground, holding Growlithe’s Pokeball tight enough to turn my knuckles white. The reminder that I wasn’t alone was enough for my logic to take hold over my discomfort.

“But o’ course you are!” Hagrid bellowed, nearly pushing Remus and Dumbledore off his porch in an attempt to squeeze between them. “Just look at yeh! If I didn’t know better I’d say James was back at Hogwarts!”

It was probably because Hagrid saw something like reticence on my face, but he stopped several feet before reaching me, looking suddenly concerned. He recovered quickly, though, dropping slowly to one knee in an attempt to match my height. Really, it made no difference—he still towered over me.

“I don’t suppose yeh remember,” Hagrid spoke softly. “We were good friends when yeh was just a baby. Good little tyke… always pulling at me beard, though.”

Of course, there was no way I could remember. I’d been with the Dursley’s since I was just a year old, and the only visitor I ever really had from my life before that had been Remus; and only he visited because he didn’t seem to care that Vernon and Petunia didn’t want him seeing me. Still, I contemplated the look Hagrid was giving me—furrowed brow surrounded by a mane of hair that would put the most wild bushman to shame… I would be lying to say it didn’t feel familiar, but it still felt like the memory of another life.

A part of me felt like I should be more excited there was another person here who could tell me more about my parents and of my past before the Dursley’s—that I might get the opportunity to feel more connected to them somehow. Sure, it was great that Hagrid was so excited that I looked like my father, and that I’d known him as a baby, but to me it was just a reminder that I’d lost both them and the life I was meant to live. Remus’ stories, while briefly exciting, always left me feeling empty, and I couldn’t imagine that Hagrid’s would be any different. I wasn’t that Harry anymore, and I never would be. I knew in the long run, thinking on the ‘what ifs’ would only make things worse, so it was better to not know what could have been at all.

“Nice to meet you,” I said softly, shuffling my feet. For a brief moment I felt guilty about not acknowledging our past connection. There was finally—aside from Remus—another person who was not only willing to tell me more but wanting to. Whether I wanted to hear more or not, that was still nice. But before I could do more than think about the possibility of tacking on an explanation, his head tilted slightly. He looked a little confused, but then he smiled widely.

“Ahh, but we’ve met before, ‘aven’t we!” Hagrid boomed, reaching for my hand. His hand never quite reached mine, though, stopping suddenly in mid-air. When I looked up, I could see why. He wasn’t looking at my face anymore, but at the Pokeball in my hand.

“Yer a Pokemon trainer! Why didn’tcha say so?” he beamed. “How many Pokemon have yeh got? I’ve only got the one, meself, but I always dreamed of havin’ a dragon type…”

_I’m a Pokemon trainer. _The title sent a tiny thrill down my spine. People weren’t just going to see me as the crippled boy-who-lived, now. I had a legitimate purpose and a future. I wasn’t just some random, disabled muggle for people to pity. I could make something of my life. Still, for the moment, I was a trainer who knew basically _nothing _about being one; so, I had no idea how to respond, especially with how excited he was about it.

“Oh, uhh… just Growlithe.”

As little as I said, it was all that was needed to reinforce Hagrid’s excitement. “I ‘aven’t seen a Growlithe since I was in Kanto! Beautiful little fellas! Don’t feel like you gotta keep him cooped up in that ball, though! Let me have a look at ‘im!”

Behind Hagrid, Remus had stepped off the porch and was standing just off the side, giving me a smile and a small nod. Already Hagrid’s good-natured enthusiasm had shed most of the nerves I had about meeting him. If I had to stay anywhere without Remus, then I had to admit that staying with someone who loves Pokemon as much as Hagrid clearly did was a fantastic choice.

I didn’t need more permission than that. I opened the Pokeball and watched as the familiar white energy spilled out and morphed into the form of Growlithe sitting faithfully at my feet. He shook his head to the side and lazily stretched out his front and back leg. He shifted so that he was leaning against my leg while he looked around at his new surroundings. The weight wasn’t enough to unbalance me, but just enough to be comforting and reassuring.

“Isn’t he fantastic!” Hagrid boomed, kneeling down in front of Growlithe and getting as low to the ground as he could. Growlithe looked neither surprised nor intimidated by the sheer size of him, simply blinking once and allowing Hagrid to reach out and pat the top of his head. He actually looked to appreciate the attention, pushing his head further into Hagrid’s hand and turning it to the side when the half-giant scratched behind his ear.

Growlithe’s lack of worry went a long way to relieving any lingering doubts I had about staying with Hagrid. Even back at the Dursley’s, Growlithe had never let any of the family pet or care for him in any real way. The fact that he was letting a perfect stranger get this close without him snapping or shooting out licks of fire told me that Growlithe could sense something about Hagrid’s character that he liked. That was good enough for me.

“Y’know, I’ve got a fire type, too,” Hagrid said. “Me ‘n Fang have been together a long time. Do yeh want to meet him?”

Dumbledore, who had stood quietly in the background, didn’t wait for me to answer before cutting in. “A fabulous idea my boy! I’m sure Harry would love to pick your brain about Pokemon, and we have some important matters to discuss.”

“Oh righ’,” Hagrid laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he pushed himself off the ground. “I always get a bit carried away when talking about the little critters. Why don’ we go inside and I’ll make us all a cuppa?”

Even as we headed inside, Hagrid kept speaking quietly to me while I crutched my way up his front steps and through the front door, more or less still ignoring Remus and Dumbledore’s presence to continue our conversation about Pokemon.

“Poor Fang doesn’t leave the house much,” he was saying. “He had a hard time as a young’un and he’s a bit of a coward if ‘m honest. But he’s mostly harmless - you just gotta take it slow if you want to show him a bit of affection.”

I stopped in the doorway behind Hagrid, looking around the small hut that was to be my home, albeit temporarily. It was probably one of the strangest homes I’d ever been in. Almost everything was in one room, bar what looked to be a small bathroom in a half room closed off at the side and a bed hidden behind a partition on the other. That wasn’t even to mention the furniture itself, nearly all of which was double the size one would find in a normal house. Just as the outside suggested, it was small and cosy—and also simultaneously larger-than-life—but all in a way that gave it a homely sort of feel.

“Fang, we ‘ave visitors!” Hagrid called, his tone as gentle and soothing as he could manage. The room remained silent for several long seconds as I looked around, looking for his supposed shy Pokemon.

“Come on out, Fang,” Hagrid urged again, “there’s only friends ‘ere.”

The Pokemon that emerged from behind the partition was not at all what I was picturing in my head. Hagrid’s description had me thinking it would be something small and cute—some poor little creature that was terrified of the world. I was not expecting a four-legged beast covered in black fur and adorned with two long, curved horns. At full height it looked to be damn near as tall as I was, and with the addition of two long gashes up the right side of its body, it looked like it had more right being a beast who could violently claw its way out of hell than it did a coward.

Yet, at the sight of three strangers in its house, it hunched down low to the ground, looking rapidly between myself, Dumbledore and Remus as though any one of us could pounce on him and attack at any moment. At the sight of Growlithe by my side, it let out a soft whine and darted back behind the partition.

“Ah, I shoulda seen that comin’,” Hagrid murmured. “He’s especially scared of other Pokemon.”

Immediately, I felt guilty. Fang was definitely terrifying to look at—honestly, he looked like some demon creature out of a nightmare—but it seemed that was only skin deep. He hadn’t actually run off until he’d seen Growlithe, and I was the one who’d brought him with me. I couldn’t well have this poor creature living in fear just because Growlithe and I didn’t have anywhere else to stay.

“Remus, I don’t want to be a problem…” I said quietly to the man opposite me.

“It’s no problem,” Hagrid answered for him. “Being around others will be good for Fang.”

“I admit I don’t know much about Houndoom, but Fang still seems a little unusual for his species,” Remus said, looking simultaneously fascinated and worried.

Hagrid nodded sadly. “Houndoom are pack Pokemon. Most of ‘em are aggressive and territorial, but my Fang doesn’t like to fight. His pack abandoned ‘im, and he had a tough time out in the wilds.”

I had to cringe as the words left his mouth. It was definitely a familiar story. I didn’t want to compare my experience to Fang’s—especially since the gashes up his side suggested his was far more violent and painful—but the feeling of being an outsider? Of feeling different than everyone else? That was something I could relate to. It’s no wonder he was terrified of newcomers. His experience, like mine, suggested that the majority of them weren’t going to be kind.

“It’s okay. Fang will come back out when he sees yeh aren’t here to hurt ‘im.”

Hagrid’s reassurance did nothing to make me more comfortable. The fact that I could sympathize with Fang only made it so that I was more uneasy ignoring his troubles. Then again, I didn’t want to call more attention to them, either. I knew now that Pokemon were smart enough to understand human speech, and I didn’t want him feeling more self conscious than he likely already did. When people did it to me, I lashed out—even when it was Remus.

“But enough of tha’,” Hagrid waved any more potential questions away while he moved around the cramped room to prepare the tea. “Yeh said we got something to talk about?”

“I’ll just get straight to the point, shall I?” Dumbledore was the one to answer. “Harry here has found himself in need of somewhere to stay for a while. As a new Pokemon Trainer, and considering the safety of the grounds of Hogwarts, I can’t think of anywhere better for him to stay than with you, dear man.”

The beaming smile on Hagrid’s face did not match the expression I expected of someone asked to look after a disabled teenager and his Growlithe.

* * *

After a few hours with Hagrid, I had to agree with Remus and Dumbledore; staying with him was the absolute best solution. For one thing, Hagrid was genuinely happy to have me stay with him, and that alone was a feeling I was not at all accustomed to. Secondly, he was just as happy to have Growlithe in his house despite the lack of space and the fact that Fang _hated _it.

But the best thing of all had to be Hagrid’s love of Pokemon. Now that I was a trainer, I wanted to learn as much as humanly possible, and Hagrid’s knowledge was damn near encyclopedic. In just a few hours he’d taught me all about Growlithe’s diet and general grooming tips, and somehow completely abated my guilt about us giving Fang a miserable time. With both his knowledge and how much he seemed to care about Pokemon in general, and Fang especially, I just had to trust his judgement on that particular matter.

Of course, my newfound comfort wasn’t going to last forever, and the ball of nerves had once again settled in my gut. It was a feeling that was only growing stronger as Hogwarts castle got bigger and bigger as I hobbled after Hagrid up the rocky path towards the school. Try as I might, I couldn’t manage to hide my anxiety from Hagrid. He was doing his best to help by trying to distract me by talking about Pokemon. Surprisingly, it was working pretty well. 

“See, a lotta people think that training Pokemon is about being their master, but tha’s not what I think. I always felt like the strong trainers treat their Pokemon more like friends. Treat Pokemon like yeh treat yeh friends, and yeh’ll always have success.”

_…That’s not great news. _

I bit my lip from the spike of anxiety that suddenly crawled down my throat. I mean, it sounded nice and simple—and it was probably really good advice—but how does one treat a friend, exactly? I’d never really had one my whole life, and the only examples I had to go on was the way Dudley treated his. Something told me that’s not exactly what Hagrid was talking about.

“I don’t… what do you mean?”

Hagrid raised a beefy eyebrow in barely veiled curiosity. “Well, I guess… I guess it’s about understanding your partner, rather than trying to control ‘em.”

“Well, yeah, but understanding in what way?” I asked. Me not trying to control Growlithe was a given. I knew what it was like to not have any choices, and there was no way in hell I’d be trying to control someone else’s. At least that way there was one thing I knew I was probably doing right.

“All Pokemon are different, just like all people are different,” Hagrid explained slowly, clearly trying to find the right words. “You gotta understand what your Pokemon wants: what he likes and doesn’t like, if he likes what you’re asking ‘im to do in battle—if ‘e even _wants_ to battle.”

“Take me ‘n Fang for example. Fang doesn’t like to fight, so I would never ask ‘im to battle. But I’ve got no interest in that meself, so that’s one o’ the things that make us a great match. Yeh see what I’m saying?”

I nodded slowly. “So not every Pokemon is right for every trainer?”

Hagrid nodded once. “Yeh said that Growlithe didn’t want to listen to your cousin? That’s the sign of a bad match. Growlithe listens to _you _because yeh’ve made the effort to understand him—to care about ‘is feelings.”

Walking by my side, Growlithe barked his confirmation and furiously wagged his tail. The anxiety that had swelled up had died as fast as it had come. There wasn’t complete clarity, but I think I understood what Hagrid meant. I was inexplicably reminded of the moment when we won the battle against Aunt Marge’s Snubbles; It was the moment I realized Growlithe _understood_ me and understood that we were both treated badly. There was still more to learn about each other, but I was confident this is what Hagrid meant about treating Pokemon like treating your friends. Just the reminder of that moment made me giddy, and I had a feeling that’s what Growlithe was thinking of, too. At that, I couldn’t resist pausing in my step to lean down and pet him.

By the time our conversation was done, we’d walked all the way to the entrance of the school, which was easily identifiable by a massive wooden door with metal bars embedded in thick gray stone. The school looked big from a distance, but up close? An Onix could fit clean through those doors. Not to mention the towers that seemed to spiral so high into the clouds that it gave me vertigo just looking at them.

As I crutched into the grand entrance behind Hagrid, Growlithe hot on my heels, I caught my first glimpse of students at Hogwarts. There weren’t many, just a handful of them moving towards what Hagrid told me was the Great Hall at the top of the stairs. One by one they seemed to catch sight of me, poking their friends in the ribs and sending their attention my way.

I had no idea if it was because they knew I was Harry Potter or whether it was because they weren’t used to seeing a disabled squib on crutches in the entrance of the school, but either way, I was definitely catching their eye. It made me want to turn around and hide with Fang behind the partition in Hagrid’s hut.

_“Why is there a cripple here?”_

_“I think that might be Harry Potter!”_

“And ‘ere I thought everyone was used to my height,” Hagrid boomed, loudly enough for all the whisperers to hear. “Off with yeh!” Still muttering amongst themselves and glancing back at me in wonderment and confusion, they continued off towards the Great Hall. Growlithe, meanwhile, was tense and glaring at their reatreating forms. I swear for a moment I even saw a lick of flame escape his nostrils.

It wasn’t the first time I’d silently congratulated Remus and Dumbledore on the idea to stay with Hagrid, but this was certainly the time when I meant it the most. Hagrid knew as well as I did that the students were staring at _me_, but he seemed more than happy to take the attention onto himself, all the while getting rid of them.

Ever so gently, Hagrid placed his oversized hand on the small of my back. “I know that you’re nervous… but don’t worry about ‘em. The only people whose opinion matters is the one yeh _choose_ to have matter to yeh.”

I took a deep breath and nodded slightly, my desire to turn around and get out of there at an all time high. I should have seen it coming. Sure, muggles would know who I was and maybe I’d get a glance or two from time to time, but wizards had _always _paid more attention. What had happened with Voldemort when I was a baby had affected the wizarding population much more than the muggles, so of course they were going to care more about my presence.

It wasn’t a good thing. I didn’t like having people pay attention to me at the best of times, but especially not in a room full of witches and wizards. All they saw when they looked at me was a victim: the boy born a wizard and made a squib. As easy as Hagrid made it sound and as comforting as Growlithe’s presence was, ignoring a room full of pitying eyes would be beyond difficult.

“You alrigh’ there?” Hagrid asked at the top of the stairs while I struggled up on my crutches.

“I’m _fine_,” I grunted, brushing his hand away.

Hagrid’s face contorted in a way that made me feel like I’d kicked him in the shin, and immediately guilt curled inside me. “I’m sorry,” I was forced to say. “Nerves.”

Hagrid nodded. “I’ll be right there with yeh,” he said. “Growlithe too, I’d reckon.” Once more, Growlithe barked. I had a feeling if I weren’t struggling up the stairs, he would be pressed against my side.

“Wait, I don’t have to put him in his Pokeball?” I asked, realization coming to mind as I thought of him. The tiniest spark of hope settled itself in my heart before I could stop it. “I thought for sure that at dinner…”

“It’ll be fine,” Hagrid replied, waving away my concern. “Worse comes to worse you can just tell ‘em that he’s a service Pokemon, eh?”

Even through all my nerves and trepidation, I actually laughed.

“A bit of advice before we go in?” Hagrid stopped me just before the door to the hall. “Sit on one of the two tables on the right. That’s Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. You’ll ‘ave better luck making friends on those tables.”

I gulped but nodded, wishing once more that I was allowed to sit up with Hagrid at the staff table. Even if I would be more noticeable up there, at least I would be able to sit next to someone familiar. The idea of actually making friends seemed unlikely to me. Even without Dudley scaring off anyone who might want to be my friend, I knew that I was always a more likely target for bullies than I was a potential friend.

_As long as I have Growlithe, I’ll be fine. _With that comforting thought and a deep breath in an attempt to settle my nerves, I followed Hagrid into the Great Hall.

It was aptly named. The hall was massive and cavernous, long enough to fill the entire school’s population. Like the entrance foyer I’d just passed through, it was lit with braziers of magical fire stuck to the walls and decorated with colored tapestries hanging from the rafters. Set in the middle were four long tables which, according to Hagrid, represented the four student houses. It wasn’t until I caught Growlithe staring up at the roof that I noticed the ceiling’s enchantment causing it to look like the sky outside. It was strangely beautiful, giving the room an odd feel like it was midway between inside and outside.

By the time I lowered my gaze back down, it was only to meet the stares of hundreds of students from across the hall. Just like outside, they were nudging each other and whispering, all clamoring to get a look at the cripple-who-lived. I tensed up at the stares more than I thought possible despite having expecting it. I felt like I was in the middle of a freeway caught in a set of headlights. Nevertheless I continued forward after Hagrid—all the while struggling not to look down—as he led up towards the head of the table on my right: the Gryffindor table, apparently.

Ideally, I’d have chosen any empty spot along the table in an attempt to escape the staring, if not for the bench seats. I’d have to climb over the actual bench to have a seat, which would require me to physically lift my mostly dead leg with my arms and place it on the other side of the seats. Hardly what I wanted to do when every eye in the hall was already on me. The least humiliating tactic was to sit at the end so I could slip around it instead of climbing over.

Fortunately, there was a spare seat at the very end of the Gryffindor table across from a blonde, slightly chubby boy that looked to be about my age. Equally good was that the far end of the table was close to the where Hagrid and Dumbledore were seated on a raised dais that looked over the rest of the students. I even managed to get myself seated without making an ass of myself in front of the entire school. Growlithe loyally sat next to me and shoved his head on my lap. I knew he would be a reassurance to have here, but I’ll admit his companionship greatly assuaged my anxiety more than even I could have expected.

Weirdly enough, the other boy looked more nervous about my sitting there than I did, looking around the room and over his shoulders as though he were the real focus. Just as I thought I’d have to, I ignored the lot of them and began piling food on my plate. At least if I had to put up with this many people watching me I’d get a decent meal out of it.

“Are—are you really Harry Potter?” the other boy finally stuttered out, hunched over and wringing his hands.

I nodded ever so slightly, keeping my attention on my dinner and doing my best to ignore the ongoing whispers and stares. They weren’t even subtle as they talked openly about my past and how my cursed leg and lack of magic was also a result of Voldemort’s killing curse. As I expected, I could hear the pity in their voices and see it in their eyes.

“But… why are you here? I thought that… well, what happened when you were a baby meant that-”

“Sure, I’m a squib,” I shrugged, cutting him off. I knew where he was going to go with the question, something I also knew everyone else wanted to know, but I preferred shutting down any talk as quickly as possible. I knew what wizards thought about squibs, and I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing how much I didn’t want to be here. “So?”

The other boy recoiled as if I’d hit him, shrinking in on himself even more than before. “I’m sorry! It’s none of my business.” He studiously looked down at his own plate and apprehensively shuffled around his food as I returned to mine. At least that was one person who wouldn’t confront me, but that wouldn’t do much for the rest of the school.

The dinner continued in awkward silence as I focused on my dinner, the sound only broken by Growlithe’s occasional snuffling. The boy across from me was doing everything he could not to glance up at me from time to time, like he was trying to answer all his questions from my face alone. It wasn’t until he saw me feeding Growlithe some of the meat from my plate that he spoke again.

“Oh, you’re a Pokemon Trainer? Is that why you came in with Hagrid?” He started hesitantly.

Again, I nodded slowly. I didn’t really want to make conversation, but if I had to, I would much rather it be about Pokemon than me being crippled magically or physically.

“I’ve never really been good with Pokemon, but I always liked them. They’re… much nicer than people.”

I really shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him say such a thing, but I was. All the signs were there that he was having a tough time with the other students. He hadn’t wanted to be close to the centre of attention, which at that moment was me, and the fact that he was sitting alone while the rest of his house stayed further down the table was very telling. I’d been so dedicated to ignoring everyone’s reaction to me that I’d completely missed just how nervous he was that I was even there. If it weren’t for his curiosity, he probably wouldn’t have spoken to me at all. In reality, we probably weren’t so different, and the realization made me want to offer an olive branch in apology.

“This is Growlithe,” I said. “You can pat him if he lets you. He likes to be scratched behind his ears.”

At that, Growlithe got up and padded right over to the boy, putting his front paws on the side of his seat to lean in closer. “Nice to meet you, Growlithe. I’m Neville,” the boy said, following my advice and scratching behind the Pokemon’s right ear. Growlithe, in typical fashion, squinted his eyes, groaned, and leaned his head in closer.

“So-”

Before I could even get anything else out, a high pitched squeak resounded across the hallfollowed by a bright purple light and the sound of smashing ceramic plates. Finally, the attention wasn’t on me, but on the Slytherin side of the room. Soon their whole table was shouting, but even after standing I couldn’t make out what was causing all the commotion. Growlithe jumped over the table from Neville and landed next to my seat, growling loudly at the source of the trouble in an attempt to protect me from potential danger.

Half of the Slytherins looked to be tossing around plates and cutlery and whatever else they could get hands on, while the other half scrambled to get away from the table. The teachers on the dais at the end of the room were on their feet and moving to investigate even as Dumbledore’s surprisingly loud voice called for calm.

“What the hell is that?” I asked.

Neville seemed far less alarmed, as did most of the students not on the Slytherin table. “It’s probably just Morpeko,” he said, though he too was craning his neck from his seat to get a look.

“Morpeko?”

“Yeah, it’s a Pokemon. Kind of the pest of Hogwarts. He’s normally pretty harmless, but once he goes into Hangry mode there’s no telling what he’s gonna’ do,” Neville explained.

_A Pokemon, causing this kind of ruckus?_

“Hangry?”

Neville nodded while still looking away from me and over towards the Slytherin table. “Morpeko is _always _hungry, but if it gets bad enough he changes color and gets more aggressive. He gets in here at meal times sometimes and tries to get food.”

“So, why doesn’t someone just feed him?” I asked. It seemed like a very simple solution. If he was hungry enough to get aggressive, then surely just keeping him fed would solve the problem.

“We’re not allowed to feed him. Professor Grubbly-Plank says the more food we give him, the more he’ll come back,” Neville answered, but by the tone of his voice, he was skeptical of the rule.

I scowled and couldn’t help the disgusted scoff that left my throat. “That’s stupid.”

“I think so, too, but she _is _the Care of Pokemon Teacher. Look, there she is—she always gets rid of him.”

Sure enough, I followed Neville’s gaze across the room towards a tall, elderly witch with a pointy chin and a severe expression. She rushed towards the Slytherin table, wand held aloft and flourishing in the air as she chanted various spells in a sing-song voice. The Slytherins roared with laughter and relief as Morpeko was magically lifted off the table, his legs kicking and squirming in the air.

The sight of it made me sick. He was terribly small—though a little chubby—with angry red eyes and tufts of purple and black fur. I had to admit Morpeko was a little terrifying as he screeched and tried to kick his way out of the magical hold. There was a dark sort of energy radiating off him, but the Hogwarts Professor had it firmly under control.

I didn’t even really think before I was on my feet—pocketing several of the apples from the nearby bowl—before I took off after the Professor as she left the hall with Morpeko still struggling before her. I heard Hagrid and Neville calling out after me, but I was hobbling away as fast as I possibly could, Growlithe trotting proudly right alongside me despite the fact he could easily run past.

Professor Grubbly-Plank took Morpeko straight out through the main entrance and down in the direction of the Forest. I followed her all the way, not that it was easy going off the already not-so-stable path to struggle my way down the grassy hill. It didn’t help that the sun had set now, and it was even harder for me to see any potential obstacles. Still, I was determined to help Morpeko, no matter how difficult. Growlithe must have thought the same, for he made sure to keep an eye on both the Professor and for obstacles on our path. A couple of times I saw him roll away a large rock or stick that threatened to trip me as I passed.

“Now get out of here!” I heard the elderly Professor shout at the edge of the forest as I at last came upon her. It looked like she had finally let her spell lift, and Morpeko was once again on the ground, hissing and still exuding the same dark energy as before—and notably not going anywhere. It only made me more determined to help him.

Professor Grubbly-Plank stopped in her tracks when she turned around and saw me, her eyes squinting to adjust to the increasing darkness. “Is that… What are you doing here, Mr Potter?”

It was no surprise she knew who I was. There was only one teenager in the school who didn’t have to wear a school uniform, and Dumbledore had informed the staff of my presence. Even if he hadn’t, apparently I was recognizable by most witches and wizards on sight alone, anyway.

“I’m a Pokemon Trainer. I’ve never seen a Morpeko before and wanted to see what all the commotion was about.” I could have told her of my intention to feed Morpeko, but somehow I got the feeling that she wouldn’t approve. Easier to convince her I was here out of curiosity.

“I see. Still, I can’t very well leave you by yourself out here. The forest is dangerous, you know.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” I argued, “I just want to see—and I’ve got Growlithe here to look out for me.” Growlithe, ever listening, stepped forward and chimed in with a quiet grunt.

She looked anything but convinced, and even shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Potter. The rules state specifically-”

“I’m not a student,” I snapped, my voice coming out considerably colder than I meant it to be. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her—I didn’t even know her—but I absolutely _did not _like the way that she’d treated Morpeko. A part of me wanted to be able to trust her knowledge, after all, Neville said she was the Care of Pokemon teacher. But I found that difficult after she’d treated Morpeko more like a mindless beast than what he truly was. If Pokemon could understand human speech, then why couldn’t he simply be spoken to about not bothering the students for food? Why was it so difficult to feed him, too? There was no way Hogwarts, a castle of that size with that many people living in it, wouldn’t have extra food for a Pokemon the size of Morpeko.

“No, but-”

“Harry, what’re yeh doin out here?” Hagrid came down the hill behind me.

“Ahh, Hagrid, good. Perhaps you could speak some sense into your ward?” Professor Grubbly-Plank said. “He doesn’t seem to want to return to the school with me.”

In a way that made me incredibly grateful once more to be staying with him, Hagrid brushed away her concern. “It’s fine, Professor. I can look after things from ‘ere.” The Care of Pokemon Teacher let out a short breath of exasperation and gave a slight shrug of her shoulders before walking back up the hill towards the castle.

I didn’t want to wait for Hagrid’s permission to feed Morpeko. The Pokemon was clearly hungry, and Hagrid told me earlier that day that basically all Pokemon were fine to eat fruit. Surely the apples I’d brought with me from the Great Hall would do the trick.

Morpeko itself was still standing just at the edge of the forest, making him look even smaller against the thick brush.

“Morpeko?” I asked quietly, lifting one of the apples out of my pocket slowly enough so that I didn’t spook him. Growlithe, easily reading the situation, stepped back but stayed close enough to help. Probably especially after Fang’s reaction, he was hyper aware of the effect his presence could have.

The little rodent Pokemon let out another screech, this one much quieter than the ones from before, but its meaning was still clear. _‘Stay back.’_

Suddenly, I was very aware that Hagrid and Growlithe were behind me and watching the encounter with rapt attention. If it were anyone else I’d have probably felt self-conscious, but nevertheless I moved slowly forward, the apple held out in front of me.

“I brought you some food, see?” I spoke as gently as I could, finally lowering the apple to the ground and rolling it forward towards him.

Morpeko jumped backwards, his cheeks now crackling with electricity. That too was a warning, and this time one I heeded. I backed off towards Growlithe just in case Morpeko decided to attack. I put my hand on Growlithe’s back to reassure him, but it was really more for _my_ benefit. I really hoped Morpeko wasn’t too lost in its Hangry mode that it would choose me over the apple.

He didn’t though, slowly inching forward now that I wasn’t close to the apple that I’d offered. Morpeko darted forward and grabbed it, holding it in his mouth as he rushed away and behind a nearby tree. It was only moments later that I could hear him speedily crunching away at the fruit.

“I have more, if you want,” I offered quietly.

Seconds later Morpeko re-emerged, though this time he looked significantly different. His red eyes had changed color and were more rounded, making him look far less angry. The purple fur had become a vibrant, creamy yellow, and the fur on his left side a pale brown. With the one bucktooth in his mouth, in an instant, he’d become one of the cutest things I’d ever seen.

But it was his personality that had shifted the most. He didn’t even seem frightened now, hopping towards me and tapping my leg as if asking for the last of the apple I’d brought. I leaned down and offered it to him. He took it in his short arms and immediately began to eat, no hesitation, right at my feet.

“So, listen,” I said. “I heard that the school doesn’t like you getting in there for food, is that right?”

Morpeko nodded, his mouth still full and chewing.

“Well, what if the next time you’re hungry, you don’t go up to the school? You can come to me, at Hagrid’s place, and I’ll find you something to eat. Is that okay?”

Morpeko nodded once more, though I was only half-sure that he’d heard anything I had to say. He seemed more interested in the apple than in anything I could possibly tell him, and I’m sure he mostly nodded just to appease me. He quickly scoffed the rest of it down before promptly standing up, hugging my leg—expertly ignoring Growlithe—and hopping off into the forest.

It was well enough to bring a smile across my face, and Hagrid clapped me on the shoulder while Growlithe rubbed his cheek against my knee.

“You know, ‘Arry, you’re gonna make a _brilliant _Pokemon trainer.”

That only made me smile more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, a massive thankyou to fireflii who beta’d this chapter for me. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe the mess this chapter was before she came along.
> 
> Anyway, sorry about the long wait. Honestly, you can blame gamefreak. I was on a writing roll until Pokemon Sword and Shield came out. It totally broke my writing habit, and I’m only just sort of getting back into it lol.
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoy, and join the discord!


	6. Chapter 6

I was alone in a seemingly endless field of long, green grass, listening to the wind howl under a dark bank of storm clouds. The reeds blew in the wind, looking like an ocean of green, tumbling waves in a typhoon. My bare feet dug into the soft dirt.

_I shouldn't be here._

How did I get here again? Try as I might to remember, my mind was blank.

I slowly turned in a circle, taking in my surroundings. The field stretched for miles in every direction, and the wind was quickly becoming so fierce that I thought it might pluck me up like a bird would a bug. I was forced to hold up an arm to shield my eyes from the gale, but it wasn't the wind that was worrying me. I couldn't see anything but swaying grass and rolling hills for miles around, but the threat couldn't have been any more obvious to me. There was something here _far _more threatening than the wild weather, of that I was certain.

I could feel it deep in my bones, a dangerous tension that hung in the air and had the hairs on my arms and legs standing straight. My eyes stung as I fought to keep them open, and my muscles strained from how tense they were. Despite my attention, it felt as if I were barely registering what was going on. My heart was beating so hard I could be forgiven for worrying the pressure might crack my ribcage, but I could still see nothing—just empty, rolling hills."

Finally, there was sound other than the howling wind, a sharp cry from behind and off in the distance. A flock of Pidgeys took off into the air from the source of the noise, flying straight over my head, cawing and shrieking as they escaped whatever had disrupted their previous tranquility. I wanted to take off after them, but my legs were rooted to the ground, refusing to move. They were so stiff and solid it was like the roots of the grass had risen up and ensnared me like vines in the jungle. My crutches were nowhere to be seen.

I could feel the danger coming, whatever it was. Moments dragged into eternities. A roar sounded in the distance, deep and loud and _terrifying. _Even though the wind was fierce and biting, it was the roar that made my blood chill. I kept trying to move, to get away to anywhere that wasn't _here. _My legs refused to budge and my mouth felt dry and my chest felt tight and _why couldn't I just_—

_Thump._

The ground shook with the noise, and I froze.

_Thump._

My chest felt like it was caught in a vice, my lungs refused to pump more oxygen.

_Thump._

Lightning rippled across the sky, but I couldn't see anything.

_Thump._

The sound was getting closer, only half masked by the booming thunder that cracked over my head.

_Thump._

Slow movement caught my eye over the crest of the nearest hill. Three blood red spikes rose into view, followed by a head of blue skin and sharp fangs. By the time the creature was in full view, my heart was beating so fast I thought it might give out. The beast looked like it was twice my size and so much more muscular. It's jaw looked massive and powerful, probably able to bite clean through a car motor with little effort. I couldn't help but picture myself being chewed to bits and swallowed by the creature.

It was a Pokemon, that was definite, but not like any I'd seen. It's skin appeared to be light blue, although it often fluctuated between that and a deep purple. The color shifted like shadows passing over each other in a very abnormal way. It had blood red spikes atop its head with a humped back ending in a long and muscular tail. It stood on two legs and had two arms, both armed with razor sharp claws.

It's eyes met mine after a suspenseful moment, and it continued forward.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

Every one of its footsteps made the ground quake underneath me, but I could do nothing but stand frozen in fear.

It stopped when it was about ten feet away, close enough that I could see clear into its eyes. They glowed red, and I could see the spark of malice in them. The Pokemon had a sort of… _dark energy _emanating from every scaly patch of skin, leaving a trail of dark, ethereal-looking blur that distorted the air similar to heat on a hot day.

My breaths were shallow and quick; my limbs refused to move so much as an inch. The creature held me in its gaze for a long moment. Time seemed to stand still as if the hourglass of the universe was suddenly filled with wet sand.

With another roar loud enough to burst my eardrums, the creature charged with a speed that didn't seem at all possible with its bulk. A scream stuck in my throat as I flinched backwards. The last thing I saw was the dark inside of it's cavernous maw.

* * *

I sat up quickly enough upon waking to nearly throw Growlithe off my bed in Hagrid's hut. If he'd still been asleep, curled into my side as he was most mornings, I'd have probably sent him sprawling to the floorboards. Instead, he was already awake, laying next to my head on my pillow and watching me intently with concern in his dark eyes.

I lifted a hand to my chest to calm my erratic breathing. Growlithe crawled forward to climb into my lap, front paws above my knees as he stretched forward to press his wet nose to my cheek. He let out a soft whine—quiet enough that it wouldn't wake Fang nor Hagrid—and gently licked my cheek. My forehead was drenched in sweat; the ones Growlithe missed ran in droplets down my face and into Growlithe's orange fur. My heart thumped in my chest, my brain working overtime to work out what the hell kind of dream I'd just had.

My scar _burned._

For a moment, I froze, and then I lifted a hand to trace it. It had never done that before. If it had, I might have chalked the dream up to a simple nightmare. No matter how real it had seemed, it was entirely possible there was nothing truly unusual about it—just an abnormally lucid dream. But not if my scar was burning. That meant my instincts about it _had _to be right. Nothing about that dream had been normal.

I carded my fingers into Growlithe's fur, letting my head rest on top of his as my breathing finally started to even out. He was giving me his best worried expression in the form of large, puppy eyes as I let out a heavy sigh. On the other side of the partition that separated my room from the rest of the cottage, Hagrid snored peacefully, unaware of my nightmare.

"Sorry, Growlithe," I whispered so as not to wake the half-giant. "Bad dream."

Growlithe nuzzled his face into mine, a low rumble coming from deep in his throat. I wasn't surprised to find him trying to comfort me. According to Hagrid, having a Growlithe as a partner meant that I was luckier than most. As a species, they were known to be amongst the most loyal of Pokemon—willing to do anything to protect and keep their humans happy.

That was backed up by everything I'd read since. The first morning that I'd woken up at Hagrid's he'd dumped a pile of books on the end of my bed—so many that they must have weighed at least as much as I did. Every one of them was from the Hogwarts library, and all of them about Pokemon. Naturally, I'd read up just about everything I could about Growlithe so I could better understand why I'd gotten so lucky. I was no closer to solving _that _particular mystery.

Still, after two weeks of doing barely nothing else but reading, I knew a whole lot more about Growlithe than I had before. For example, now I knew that his sense of smell was powerful enough that he could actually _smell _my emotional state, hence his trying to comfort me after my nightmare. In reality, my distress was probably the reason he'd woken before me. I'd have felt guilty for waking him up, but the nightmare left me shaken, and his support was relieving.

It was still early enough to be dark outside, and my vision was blurred from too little sleep, but I still threw my blanket off and swung my legs off the side of the bed. The pain in my scar was slowly subsiding, but I could still see the strange Pokemon in my mind's eye like it was still in front of me, it's huge jaw opening wide to swallow me whole.

I had to know if it was real or not. The books Hagrid had gotten me might just have the answer.

Being a squib in a wizarding house didn't always make things easy. Though, Hagrid was _supposed _to be banned from using magic himself—for reasons that he still wouldn't tell me—he'd always used charms and spells for lighting up his cottage. I couldn't do that. I stumbled past the partition, feeling my way with my crutches to find the battery powered lantern Remus had bought for me. Growlithe moved ahead of me, his bright orange fur guiding my way.

My fingers found the handle of the lantern just on the other side of the partition without making too much noise somehow. Then again, Hagrid probably wouldn't have woken even if I'd been out in his kitchen banging pots and pans together. The half-giant could sleep like the dead, though the dead probably wouldn't have been able to snore quite so loud. Fang the Houndoom slept at the end of his bed, flipped onto his back to show his belly with a lack of fear he would never show if he was awake.

I flicked it on and headed back to what was more or less my bedroom, of course, it was less a room and more a small section of the hut separated by giant furniture. My books lay in a pile on the floor, lying adjacent to the path I tried to leave around my bed so I could get around with my crutches.

I grabbed a few of the books at random and climbed back under the covers, feeling the bed shift as Growlithe jumped up beside me, sitting upright and gazing at the books like he was going to try and help me solve the mystery. I pat him on the head, and with a smile, I threw the first open.

It probably wouldn't be of any help. It was more about type advantages and battle techniques than about finding a particular Pokemon. Even if it was more focused on Pokemon, I didn't exactly have much to go off. The Pokemon in my dream hadn't even used any moves of a particular type, so I didn't even have that as a basis. More than that, it's appearance didn't _totally _reveal anything about a particular typing it might have, though it probably ruled a few out.

I flipped open more and more of the books, skimming through the pages until long after the sun came up and my battery powered lantern ran out of juice. Growlithe had since laid down, half sprawled on my lap, but he still watched with alert eyes. I found what I was looking for maybe an hour after the sunrise.

"I think that's it, Growlithe!" I whispered, pointing down at the page. Growlithe looked up at me and tilted his head to the side. He hadn't experienced the dream for himself, so it's not entirely impossible he was beginning to think he'd attached himself to a young trainer losing his sanity. Then again, given his astonishing level of loyalty, that thought was probably laughable.

"_Feraligatr…" _I read the name of the Pokemon under its picture in the book. A water type apparently native to the Johto region. What I'd seen was clearly a Feraligatr, at least in terms of its body shape and size, but nothing else about the Pokemon from my dreams seemed right.

"What was wrong with the one I saw in my dream?" I wondered aloud. The one in the book was bright blue, and the information written seemed to suggest that the Pokemon would only be hostile if threatened or attacked—or in defense of its own family. The one I'd seen had attacked me on sight without hesitation. More than that, the way its scales glowed with that purple energy…

It was no mere dream.

Unless, was it? I didn't _think _I'd ever seen the Pokemon before, but I'd skimmed through most of the books that Hagrid had bought me, so maybe I'd seen its picture before? Was it at all possible that my own psyche had taken the picture from the textbook and made it the stuff of nightmares? Had given it a dark, evil aura and glowing red eyes? I frowned as doubt started creeping in.

It didn't seem right… and yet, what was the alternative? That I was somehow dreaming about something really happening? That was a magical trait—and I sure as hell didn't have any magic.

I reached up to my scar, though it had since stopped burning completely. Even so, I wasn't forgetting the dream like I would any other. I could still see the vicious beast's mouth opening wide to tear me limb from limb as though it were a memory I'd had while awake. The clarity of the dream and the pain in my scar occurring together would be a _very_ unlikely coincidence.

I didn't get the chance to dwell on my confusion. Lost as I was in my thoughts, I hadn't even noticed when Hagrid's snoring had stopped, and he was poking his head around the partition.

"Morning 'Arry," he yawned, scratching at his bushy beard. His hair was matted on one side where he'd slept on it, making his usual caveman appearance even more wild than it normally was. Still, he was smiling, and that alone was enough to pull me from the darkness of my nightmare. At Hagrid's, I didn't have to worry. I had him, and I had Growlithe.

"Want to head up to the Hall for a spot o' breakfast?"

* * *

Breakfast started out as uneventful as always, as it had been every morning in the two weeks I'd been staying with Hagrid. I sat with Neville like always, though our conversations still never seemed to grow beyond pleasantries and small-talk. He was too nervous to start too many conversations, and I was too uncertain about what to say even if he did. Mostly he would ask me about being a Pokemon trainer, to which I couldn't actually say much, having only one Pokemon and no real adventures. Occasionally, he would talk about his classes, but as a squib it was hard to relate to those.

Far more often we ate in awkward silence. It's not that I didn't want to talk to him, but honestly, I spent most of our meal times wondering what I should actually say. I'd never had a friend before, and since Neville seemed to be the only one who wanted to talk to the school squib, I didn't want to scare him away or offend him by saying something wrong. Unfortunately, Growlithe wasn't much help for long. There was only so much time we could spend giving him some attention during lunch time. After my strange dream, though, my curiosity was enough to overtake that instinct.

"Hey, Neville?"

Neville looked up from his cereal with just a hint of the nerves he'd had when he first met. One of his eyebrows was raised in question.

"Do you ever have strange dreams?" I had to ask the question. I couldn't shake the memories of it—and frankly, even the fact that I could remember it so vividly at all was odd. Most dreams I had were forgotten as soon as I awoke. That I could remember it so well and that it had made my scar burn… I just couldn't stop thinking about it. This wasn't something I could just shake off.

Neville hesitated for a moment before speaking in a quiet voice and leaning across the table like he was about to tell me a big secret. "Well, I once had a dream that Professor Snape was actually a vampire—"

"No," I cut him off and shook my head firm. "I don't mean strange as in just a bit weird… but more like… do you ever dream things that you think might be real?"

Neville sent me another questioning glance before shaking his head. "You mean seer dreams? Those are _very _rare. The last true seer I heard of was Professor Trelawney's grandmother."

Neville shifted his gaze towards the teachers table and landed on a woman with wild hair covered in bejeweled shawls. Her glasses were so thick they magnified her eyes multiple times the size they actually were. She was seated next to Professor McGonagall, urging her to look in the crystal ball she'd brought along. Professor McGonagall did not look amused, or even slightly interested, as she diligently looked at her plate as she ate.

On appearance alone, I immediately discounted her as an option to ask any questions. Growlithe seemed to agree if his snort of dismissal was any indication.

"Why do you ask?" Neville asked slowly, his tone not doing anything to hide his curiosity.

The fact that he'd heard of only one true seer in recent memory made me feel like an utter idiot. Asking about seers because I had one stupid dream? I felt completely foolish. I was a squib—having any sort of prophetic dreams was completely impossible.

"Oh, never mind," I disregarded Neville's question. I was hardly about to admit that I thought I'd had one. Even if he didn't decide that I was crazy, which he probably _should, _he'd give me the same pitying eyes that everyone else in Hogwarts did when it came to my being a squib. I _hated _that look. "I was just curious."

"Oh, you're talking about seers?" A girl with a bushy mane of brown hair and somewhat overly large front teeth strided up just as Growlithe huffed quietly to alert him to the new company. She dropped a thick, heavy tome on the table and planted herself next to Neville, not even really gazing up to see who she was talking to and not even giving Growlithe a glance. Like always, Neville looked uncomfortable. Growlithe, on the other hand, didn't look uncomfortable, but he was still carefully assessing her. "I'm not sure I put much stock in the subject, myself. It's all a bit wishy-washy. Ancient Runes on the other hand—"

The girl seemed to finally look up and across the table, her voice dropping off the second her eyes landed on my scar. "Oh! You're Harry Potter! I've read all about you, of course. You were one of the first chapters I read in my history textbooks after I went to Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall. _'The boy who lived.'"_

"You must be quite curious as to how it all happened. Rather infuriating that after so much study they still don't know how you managed to survive. After all, the killing curse doesn't do any physical damage to the body. For a long time wizards theorized that it perhaps gave the victim an intense heart attack or stroke, but once muggle technology evolved they were able to study it more and more. Do you think perhaps instead it dislodges the soul? But then, how would that explain how your survival as a squib with monoplegia of the leg?"

In the span of what must only have been a single minute, one girl I didn't even know the name of had conversed more with me than any other student in the first two weeks. I was stunned into silence for a moment. Growlithe shifted until he was leaning against my leg in a show of silent support. I reached down to pat at his head, and to prevent him from barking or growling at her. In only two weeks he'd shocked me many times with the level of understanding he had of human speech. No doubt he didn't like how uncomfortable the girls questions were making me feel.

I'd never met anyone like her before. Lots of people liked to talk and discuss things, but never so much, and _never _with me. Despite the awkwardness of the topic, I had no idea how to properly answer her, but I somehow managed to come up with a reply.

"I guess… I've never really thought about it that much?"

The girl frowned as if she didn't understand the meaning of the words. "How could you not? I'd be trying to find any information I could! How do you stand your own life being such a mystery?"

I blinked at her. I'd been asked similar questions before, of course, but never so directly. Most people tended to skirt around it, dancing around with their words before asking more subtle questions, like it was almost forbidden. Not this girl. She didn't seem to care, or perhaps not even realize how forward she was being or that her questions were more than a little uncomfortable. In a weird way though, her confidence and lack of discomfort about the questions she was asking made them feel a whole lot more normal. I definitely felt more insecure when people were tiptoeing around the issue as if I should or would be ashamed to talk about it. It was a bit refreshing actually.

Still, I genuinely hadn't spent a great deal of time thinking about it. I'd been a crippled squib for as long as I could remember, so me looking at what I could have been otherwise always seemed a waste of time—not to mention probably very depressing. I had no idea how to answer her questions, though.

"I guess I _am _a mystery," I conceded. "But it's not like I can go and search for a magical answer myself…"

I didn't mean for my answer to guilt her, but as soon as the words flew out my mouth I knew it's how it must have sounded. She flinched as though I'd struck her and she paled considerably. "I didn't mean to—"

"No!" I cut her off. "I didn't mean for it to sound like—"

An awkward silence followed with Neville looking _extremely _uncomfortable. Soon, both she and I were both laughing. It was probably just a result of the sheer awkwardness, but it felt natural—a proper, genuine laugh. Neville looks like he's desperately trying to understand, but confusion is all that appears on his face. When we stopped laughing, the girl spoke in a more serious, softer voice.

"I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I've been told I can be a little too analytical. My name is Hermione Granger," she introduces. Neville nods along with her admission before looking guiltily away when she turns to look at him.

"Oh, and I've always wanted to say hello to your Growlithe!" she added, craning her neck over the table to see the Pokemon sitting loyally at my side like always. At the mention of his name, Growlithe glanced at me, looking for my nod of permission. When I did, he crossed to the other side of the table. Hermione doesn't hesitate to reach down and pet him. I could see his nose twitching to take in her scent, and not a moment later, he wags his tail at the attention. Just the fact that Growlithe accepts her so easily tells him a lot about her character. Outspoken and overly analytical she may be, but if Growlithe liked her that was enough for me.

"I always admired Growlithe. They're meant for a more physical life than one I was likely to give, but aren't they just the most loyal of Pokemon? They're of great use to the police force, and I think even Aurors have been known to use their sense of smell from time to time," she stated as she continued petting.

"You like Pokemon?" I asked, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. After two weeks at Hogwarts, it had become apparent that most witches and wizards don't really value Pokemon, instead choosing to focus on their magical studies.

"Of course!" Hermione seemed just as surprised to hear me ask. "I am a muggleborn after all. Until I found out I was a witch, I had always dreamed about being a Pokemon researcher. Both my parents are Orthodontists, and even _they _use Pokemon at their surgery. Did you know Chansey can even make fantastic dental nurses?"

After reading through the books that Hagrid had given me, I was familiar with the pink, egg holding Pokemon that are so widely used in the medical community. I nodded emphatically. "I knew that they were used in Pokemon Center's and doctor's surgeries, but even dental practices?"

Hermione nodded several times, a beaming smile on her face at the thought of being able to speak about something she would deem academic. I got the distinct impression that she didn't have many friends, and idly, I wondered why she and Neville hadn't seemed to find each other. Surely as two loners in the same house they were a perfect match for friendship?

I smiled my way through the oncoming conversation. For the first time with other students, it didn't seem forced or fake, either. Before long, Neville was talking too, not knowing anywhere near as much as Hermione—or apparently me—on the subject of Pokemon, but still appreciating them enough to involve himself in the conversation. If this was what it felt like to have friends, then Hogwarts might not be so bad.

* * *

Morpeko was waiting for me back at Hagrid's, just as he was after most mealtimes. He sat on the stoop of Hagrid's hut, but not alone. Instead, he was being scratched under the chin by Remus. He was fortunately in his cute buck toothed form rather than his more aggressive and sinister hangry form. His little foot was tapping on the ground as Remus scratched his chin.

"Hullo, Harry," Remus said when Hagrid, Growlithe, and I approached. "I figured you wouldn't be long. Seems this little one thought the same."

Morpeko let out a happy sort of squeak when he turned to see me, abandoning Remus's scritches on Hagrid's front step and bounding over to rub his face onto my leg. Just a few meals is all it took to win the little mouse Pokemon's heart. Nearly every day he'd been at Hagrid's waiting for me—multiple times a day, sometimes—to the point that I'd taken with filling my pockets with seeds to give him at any time.

Morpeko took a step back and bounced on his feet in excitement for the food he knew was coming his way. His tiny cheeks sparked with electricity in his happy state, and he held out his tiny hands to reach for the seeds—never mind the fact he was about a foot and a half too short. With a smile and a small, but fond, shake of my head at his gluttony, I grabbed a small pinch of the seeds and dropped them into his cupped hands, enough to fill them completely. He greedily stuffed some in his mouth and placed the rest in his furry, little pockets for safekeeping. Growlithe stood off to the side, trusting Morpeko enough now that he wouldn't have to step in and protect me from his hangry temper tantrums, but still nearby just in case.

Like every other day, Morpeko, still chewing on the seeds, gave my leg another quick hug before running off on all fours and disappearing into the forest behind the hut. Hagrid let out a hearty laugh.

"You sure yeh don't want to catch the little fella?" he asked. "That little critter already loves you."

It wasn't the first time the topic had come up. It had only taken a few days before Morpeko had lost any anxiety about being around me—and by extension Growlithe and Hagrid as well—and had become rather affectionate. Still, I didn't _really _want to catch him. Honestly, I wasn't really sure about the whole _'catching' _thing in general. To me, it just felt as though I would be taking a Pokemon away from its home and life, no matter how much Hagrid tried to tell me it wasn't like that at all. Besides, Morpeko always ran off after a very short visit. If anything, that was a clear answer to me how he felt.

"He's right you know," Remus added. "Morpeko would be a fabulous Pokemon for you. If you want some pokeballs, just say the word…"

They both knew my position, so to me, it wasn't worth answering. A deadpan look did the trick. They clearly knew _my_ answer, not that I knew it would stop them from bringing it up again. While Morpeko seemed happy living in the forest and exploring the grounds of Hogwarts, I didn't want to interfere with his life too much. If I could just make his life a little easier by finding him food so he wouldn't have to go into his hangry state and get physically removed from the castle, that was enough for me.

"What brings you here so early?" I asked Remus, reaching out to grasp his hand and help him to his feet—though, realistically, I probably didn't help him much. He'd been coming to Hagrid's every day since I had been there, usually to help me continue my muggle education and just genuinely keep my company while Hagrid worked, but never so early in the morning. From the excited glint in his eye, it was easy to see that he was up to something.

Remus reached for a long cardboard box leaning against Hagrid's front door and held it under his arm. "I actually came to give you something. You mind if we go inside, Hagrid?"

Hagrid held out his hands and nodded once. "How did't turn out?" he asked. I looked between the men, probably looking as confused as I felt. Obviously Hagrid was in on whatever this was, too. Growlithe stood underneath, nose up in the air, but it didn't seem he could get an accurate gleam on what it was either—not that he could tell me even if he did.

Remus shrugged his shoulders. "It should fit well enough—but it _is _experimental. I just hope it works."

Despite my questioning glances, neither wanted to just blurt out what was inside the box. It was especially surprising for Hagrid. Even after only knowing him for two weeks, I knew how much he hated not being able to talk about something. The half-giant definitely struggled to keep his mouth shut—though that was also one of the reasons I loved him.

I crutched inside after Remus and watched him place the box on Hagrid's kitchen table. "What's with all the secrecy?" I had to ask.

Remus shakes his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Harry, I'm not tryingto be secretive. I just didn't want to tell you anything until there was something to actually tell."

_What on earth is he talking about?_

"Just… try to keep an open mind?"

As if that wasn't foreboding.

Remus reached into the box and pulled out something long and silver. I recognized it immediately and scowled. It was a leg brace, the kind that doctors had been trying on me for years to help me walk. They'd never been successful. Not only did it mean I couldn't bend my leg, which meant it would be more of a hobble than a walk, but it still meant that I had to put pressure on my leg, and I _couldn't. _Trying to put any weight on my cursed leg only resulted in pain and me falling on my ass.

"No way," I said, probably sounding petulant. Growlithe, probably sensing my emotions, barked at the object—upset because I was. I couldn't even get across that I was grateful to the thought. I'd spoken to him before about how nothing else worked but crutches. They were the only way I could get around on my own without having to put any pressure on my leg at all. No brace the doctors had prescribed had ever worked, and I didn't want to start feeling sorry for myself by trying another. I already knew the outcome.

"Harry, just—"

"Remus, you _know _they don't work," I snapped. "I told you that nothing works but the crutches. I've accepted that my leg will always be like this, so why can't you?"

I knew even as the words left my mouth that it was a low blow and entirely undeserved. When it came to my leg and people trying to make it better, however, my experience was that nothing could work. I didn't want to raise my hopes just to have them dashed.

Remus looked wretched, as if I'd come out and said that I hated his guts. Still, he was determined to get his way. "I did say to keep an open mind… this isn't like the other braces you've tried in the past. I had this brace custom built for exactly your size—"

I opened my mouth to argue that doctors had tried that in the past, but Remus shook his head and lifted a hand to stop me from interrupting.

"'Arry, just hear him out," Hagrid interrupted softly.

Remus smiled briefly at the half giant as I let out a frustrated sigh.

"As I was saying, it should fit you perfectly, but more than that the metal will contract and expand to allow you to bend your leg. I've placed an assortment of charms on it that _should _in theory make it so there's no pressure on your leg itself. The brace should take the impact of every step," Remus continued.

I didn't want to believe it. I _didn't _believe it. So many times I'd been let down.

'_This should work.'_

'_He should be able to walk with __**this.'**_

Countless doctors and even some mediwizards had tried time and time again to fix my leg. When that didn't work, they moved towards strategies to alleviate pain and pressure. Nothing ever worked. But Remus spoke with such confidence and conviction and even a little hope that a part of me started to hope with him, and I hated it. Growlithe whined and nudged the hand I didn't even realize was clenched, and when that didn't work, he glared at the offending object. Unfortunately, this was one thing he couldn't protect me from.

"I _know _you don't want to get your hopes up," Remus said softly, looking me dead in the eye. "I also don't want to hurt you if it doesn't work… but I could never forgive myself for not doing everything I can to make your life easier. Could you try? For me?"

After a long and fairly tense silence, I nodded slowly. I would try for Remus. Even if that meant wallowing in despair later. I leaned my crutches against the table before sitting down. "So, how does it work?"

As it turned out, the way it was meant to work was pretty simple. It fit around my leg in much the same way as every brace I'd tried before, tight enough that I could feel it press ever so slightly into my skin. That fact alone was nearly enough to tell Remus to call it off. It all felt so familiar. The difference was Remus. He placed the brace on gingerly, so utterly careful not to cause me any pain that it was hard to doubt him at all. All he wanted was to make my life a little easier.

"Alright," Remus said after fastening it in place. "Ready to try and take a step?" He took several steps back until he was on the other side of the room. Suddenly, he looked to be all nerves, which of course did _nothing _for my confidence on the matter. Still, there was a determined glint underneath. He had enough hope that it would work for the both of us. I climbed out of my seat, keeping one hand on the giant table for stability with Growlithe on standby.

I took a step.

There was no pain, just the almost inaudible sound of the metal grinding against itself. I froze in shock after the first step. My mind went blank, as if unable to process this new feeling.

"How was that? I can make some adjustments if its not comfortable—"

I didn't answer, but I felt my mouth twist into a small, hopeful smile. My heart leapt to my throat, not in fear, but for once in hope.

I took another step.

And another.

_And another._

I jumped the last step straight into Remus, crashing into him hard as I wrapped my arms firmly around his waist. Unbidden tears flowed from my eyes, wetting Remus's robe, not that he seemed to mind. His arms came up to squeeze my shoulders, and on the top of my head, I felt the light drips of tears, too. Growlithe cheerfully howled and barked and pranced around my feet true to his puppy nature like he couldn't believe what was happening. I was barely sure I could believe it either. It felt like I was still dreaming, but the feeling was starkly contrasted to this morning's nightmare.

_I walked._

It was the only thought I could manage to make, other than a feeling of the utmost gratitude towards the man that had shown me more fatherly affection than anyone else in my life. I wanted to feel guilty for how I felt earlier and for the ugly words I said to him. I wanted to get it out—to apologize or to thank him or just to say _something_—but the words were stuck in my throat. I felt choked, but in a good way, and that was a very new feeling for me. What words could I have said that would be enough, anyway? What Remus had made happen was nothing short of a miracle. Wizarding magic was nothing new to me. I had seen it, people had tried it. But this felt like _real_ magic, and I couldn't help but wonder if this is how Muggleborns felt when they first discovered they were magical. It felt like a whole new world of possibilities and opportunities opened up.

For the first time in my life, I started to really believe that my luck had changed. Between Remus, Growlithe, Hagrid, and now this miraculous brace, it was like after years of ignorance the universe had finally started to notice me.

_I walked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually finished ages ago, and I'm halfway through the next chapter. I'm just really crap at uploading on ao3 as well as ffn because my audience is so much bigger there.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"That's it, Growlithe!" I cried out. "Another ember!"

Growlithe's furry image flashed from side to side as he rushed again at the makeshift target, disappearing and reappearing before my eyes the way he'd done when he was protecting me against the Death Eaters. He was only a few feet away from a charmed tree stump Remus had gifted when he let out a quick barrage of fierce flames, each one striking precisely as intended. Almost as soon as his attack hit, he jumped back, snorting wisps of fire out each nostril. He glared at the target like it could turn into the attacking Death Eaters at any moment. If I was giving him orders, even if just for practice, Growlithe was going to be taking it seriously.

"Nice one!" I called out again from where I was sitting underneath the shade at the edge of the Forbidden Forest by Hagrid's hut. I had my knees up—something that would have been impossible without the help of my new leg brace—propping up an open guide book against my thighs. It was another of the ones Hagrid had given me, this one specifically a manual of sorts for beginner trainers. I'd have had very little idea at all how to even go about training Growlithe without it.

As he turned to face me, Growlithe's gaze lost its ferocity and his ears pricked up at the praise I'd given. His mouth dropped open to pant happily, his tongue suddenly lolling out his mouth as it so often did in his more relaxed state, and his eyes lit up. The target he'd hit burned slowly with yellow and orange flames, now slowly starting to fizzle away against the power of Remus' fireproof charm.

_He's so strong._

Not that I had much of a metric to compare his power against, but to my eyes, Growlithe was beyond formidable. Every one of his flames seemed hot and powerful enough to melt through solid steel, and the sheer power behind his physical attacks was entirely at odds with his relatively small stature. If his attacking strength wasn't enough, the sheer magnificence of his speed and sure-footed stance was awe-inspiring. Whether he was using them to dodge potential attacks or increase the power of his attacks, Growlithe was simply _born_ to battle.

It almost made me feel guilty that I hadn't been training him to battle in the month or so I'd been at Hagrid's. I'd seen firsthand how he'd fought against the Death Eaters, and then against Marge's _two _Snubbull. I just had to get over my reservations about making Pokemon fight each other. Hagrid's books suggested battling was almost biologically necessary for Pokemon. They didn't often get properly hurt from fighting each other unless they were in more dire circumstances than what a casual or professional battle between trainers could cause. In reality, battling Pokemon was _encouraged—_and it was stated in more than the books centred around Pokemon combat.

Begrudgingly, because I still wasn't overly thrilled about making Growlithe battle just because he was good at it, I had to admit how connected it made me feel to him. Even when we trained without a real opponent, it still felt like it was the _both _of us taking action. Every move we made, we made together, a display of continuous and complete understanding that flowed between trainer and Pokemon. Despite not liking the reality of the fighting, nothing about that could be _wrong. _If he wasn't going to get hurt from battling, or at the very least practising for it, then I had no _real _reason not to besides my own illogical fears.

Growlithe dog-trotted towards me, stopping close enough that he was pressed against my legs so I could scratch at the spot behind his ear. His head tilted further to the side with every scratch, and his back foot tapped rapidly on the ground.

"You know, you're great at this battling thing," I said idly. "You're sure you enjoy it? I don't wanna make you do anything—"

Growlithe barked once before I could even finish my sentence, all but telling me to 'shut up and stop worrying.' I couldn't blame him. I could have made a full-time career of pushing my anxieties onto him. Still, progress meant that I was outside and training him now. Training made him happier, and it made me feel much more like I was a _real_ Pokemon trainer. A win win.

Technically, I'd been a real trainer since the moment Growlithe had come with me from the Dursley's, but I'd never trulyfelt like it until I'd started testing his limits in battle—without Dumbledore's help. Pokemon training is an act of give and take, and so far, Growlithe had done all the give, and I'd done all the take. That had to change. This was my effort in making things right.

"I know, I know," I said. "It's just that you never really wanted to battle for Dudley, and I—"

This time Growlithe cut me off by placing one of his paws on my arm and giving me an irritated sort of groan. For the first couple of weeks with Growlithe, I'd occasionally found it difficult to read him, mostly since I couldn't rely on any human expressions like I would with anyone else. Now, despite only a little over a month together, it was like I'd developed an uncanny ability to know what he was thinking. It was almost like it upset him that I'd even mentioned his time with Dudley and compared it to his time with me.

I gave him an apologetic smile and another pat on the top of his head and down his neck, scrunching up my fingers to twist through the soft fur on his back. "Right, sorry. I'll stop."

I _had _to stop. It was clear even without me asking that Growlithe truly enjoyed battling, or at the very least _training_ for battle, but I was still finding it so difficult to get over my many reservations. After so many years being the punching bag for Dudley, it was difficult to accept that Pokemon would fight each other under _any _circumstances, let alone for fun. Even with all Hagrid's books telling me that it was only under rare and extreme circumstances that Pokemon would take actual damage—other than a temporary loss of their energy—I still couldn't manage to move past it. Every time I tried to force myself into the belief that battling could be good, I thought of Fang and how he'd been affected by it. The last thing I wanted was to see Growlithe live in absolutely paralysing fear like I saw in Fang every day.

But then, Fang and Growlithe were very different Pokemon. Hagrid had told me himself that Fang never liked to battle, even before his injuries. Growlithe on the other hand seemed to love it. He relished in his speed and strength and seemed determined to get stronger—probably in an effort to better protect _me. _Since he enjoyed it so much, how could I keep it from him? It was important to Growlithe, therefore, it _had _to be important to me. I could live with that.

"All right then, ready for some more? Show me a Fire Spin!"

Growlithe barked obediently and eagerly, and with another impressive display of his speed and acrobatics, he was back out in front of the target. Instead of attacking the target once more though, he turned back towards me and lifted his head up to look into the branches above my head.

I glanced up just as I heard the rustling of the canopy above. Morpeko dropped from the branches to land at my side, smiling wide to reveal his one big, buck tooth. I almost scampered away on hands and knees at the unexpected movement, sending the book on my legs hurtling away. My heart thumped in my chest like a bomb about to explode. Twigs and leaves fell from above to land in my hair, and it was only mid-panic that I finally saw the creature in front of me. I frowned at him as my heart calmed and let out a frustrated huff.

Morpeko didn't seem at all bothered to have frightened me so much. He pulled his hands from his furry pockets and held them out in front of me, same as he did every other day. To seem even more cute and innocent, Morpeko widened his eyes and began quivering his bottom lip. After several weeks of him coming to me for food, I knew the performance was all a mere act. He was a mischievous, little devil, willing to do anything for his next meal. More than once I'd had to stop him from impatiently reaching into my pockets for the seeds himself while I wasn't looking. Still, I was always willing to give him what he wanted, despite that I knew it was probably reinforcing his bad behavior.

I pushed myself backwards with my hands until my back was once more against the tree and reached for the book I'd sent flying. "Back again already? Where do you even put it all?" I asked, breath still slightly unsteady from my near panic. Not that Morpeko was thin—in fact, a better description would be that he was a rather pudgy little thing—but he didn't seem to get any bigger, despite his constant eating, either. I could scarcely believe that such a small creature could eat so much without it ever affecting him. With the amount of seeds I was handing over on a daily basis, he had to be eating something like half his body weight, not to mention the seeds he would stuff into his pockets for later.

"Peko," was all the little mouse Pokemon said in response in his squeaky voice. He stretched forward on the tips of his feet to hold his hands even closer to my face, as impatient as ever to receive his seeds.

I looked over towards Growlithe, but he no longer seemed to feel the need to be right by my side in case he needed to protect me from Morpeko anymore. I hadn't seen the mouse Pokemon's hangry side since the first night I'd met him, and Morpeko had never given me any reason to worry he might attack me. He seemed to live by the philosophy of 'don't bite the hand that feeds you.'

But then, it made sense that I hadn't seen his hangry side a second time. All it took to avoid it was a little food, after all, and I was always happy and willing to provide. More than any other creature I'd seen, Morpeko was a slave to his biology. To my eyes, it wasn't that he _wanted_ to be angry and hostile, only that a lack of food literally changed his brain chemistry in a very significant and noticeable way. Once fed, he was actually very sweet. It was only that he used to struggle for food and be forced into his hangry mode that the population of Hogwarts had misunderstood him so much. I had to swallow my anger at the thought of it. A whole school thinking him a hostile pest, just because they'd let him go hungry?

I reached out to pat his head first, but he ducked under my hand and out of the way, frowning and puffing out his cheeks as he occasionally did when I tried to postpone him getting his food. I couldn't help but laugh. He scrunched his face up even more at my reaction and held out his tiny hands once more.

"Peko," he said again, far more impatient this time. I ignored his demanding attitude and instead gestured over towards the small stump that Growlithe had been using for target practice.

"What do you think, Morpeko? Think you could show me some of your moves on Growlithe's practice target over there?"

Morpeko glanced over towards it. For a moment his cheeks sparked with electricity, and I thought he might actually give it a shot. But as quickly as the lightning appeared, it vanished, and he turned back to me with an even more irritated scowl. His hands were still outstretched in front of him, but now he let out an impatient squeak and wiggled his tiny fingers.

I rolled my eyes and let out a short laugh. "Yeah, didn't think so." Morpeko's eyes widened, and I could literally see his excitement as I reached into my pockets for his seeds. His cheeks sparked again, and his little body bounced from side to side and shook with the excitement of a coming meal. As soon as they were in his hands, he began filling his pockets where, according to the books I'd read, the seeds would be roasted by the electricity coursing through his body. When his pockets were full, he stuffed some uncooked seeds from my hand straight into his mouth, unwilling to wait so much as another second before filling the void of his hunger.

Mildly satisfied and now seemingly happy to wait until the rest of his seeds were well-roasted, he curled into my side against the tree, mouth opening for a wide yawn. I patted the top of his head slowly, happy now that he wasn't ducking his way out of my reach. It wasn't long before he was asleep, even as Growlithe attacked the target once more outside the shade of our tree. We stayed that way for hours. Growlithe was content to train his skills as I read more of Hagrid's books and Morpeko slept, barely waking briefly only to stuff more food in his mouth, almost like it was more muscle memory than because he was actually hungry.

When Hagrid found us late in the afternoon, it was with all three of us asleep, Morpeko still leaned into my side and Growlithe sprawled upside down across my legs. Fortunately, he had a wizarding camera on hand to immortalize the occasion, and I ended up with my first framed picture for my bedside table.

* * *

"Are you sure it's okay I go to a class?" I asked Neville as we made our way up the grand staircase of Hogwarts. "I mean, I'm not technically a student… or a wizard." My voice was small and nearly inaudible at the latter descriptor. Not that I was ashamed of being a squib, especially now that I had Growlithe, but Hogwarts _was _a school for wizards, and my lack of magic couldn't have been clearer anywhere else.

Neville shrugged, slowing down for me as I slowly made my way up the stairs step-by-step. I would never have been able to make it so high up the staircase with just my crutches, and it wasn't exactly _easy _with Remus' brace, but it was certainly manageable. That alone was still a minor miracle to me.

"I don't see why not," Neville said matter-of-factly. "Hagrid said it would be okay, didn't he? It's a class about Pokemon, after all, and you _are _a Pokemon Trainer."

More than a month after being at Hogwarts with Growlithe, and someone else's declaration of me being a Pokemon Trainer was still enough to make me giddy. Still, I was a little nervous about attending a class at Hogwarts, even one about Pokemon. Honestly, perhaps even _especially _a class about Pokemon. True, I wanted to know everything I could about them, but all I'd seen from Professor Grubbly-Plank was her magically removing the hangry Morpeko from the Great Hall. If that was how she treated a Pokemon in need, I wasn't so convinced that learning from her would be the best thing. Being a trainer myself, I couldn't help but worry that I might quickly become the centre of attention in a class about the creatures, and that was just about the last thing I wanted.

Growlithe hopped up the stairs ahead of me, stopping at the top of each flight and watching patiently as I trudged up behind him. He'd never go any further than that, not unless I ordered it. Everything I'd read about Growlithe was ringing absolutely true. The sheer level of loyalty in the fire dog was absolutely unparalleled. The only probable reason he was running ahead at all and not staying directly by my side was that he might accidentally trip me up on the stairs by getting under my feet—or even another student.

"Do you ever study any Pokemon up close? I'm starting to get to know the names of some of them from Hagrid's books, but it's not the same without seeing them up close," I said to fill the silence as we moved toward another staircase. "Does the Professor ever have any with her?"

Neville looked at me with a raised eyebrow for a moment before shaking his head firmly. "I think you might have the wrong idea of what this class actually _is. _Most of wizardkind doesn't bother with Pokemon, especially training them. This class is more of a… I guess you might call it a clinical approach? I'm not so sure you'll like it."

_Oh. _I was disappointed, but not really surprised. After seeing the way that Professor Grubbly-Plank had treated Morpeko, I should never have expected her to be a trainer herself. I couldn't imagine treating _any _Pokemon so thoughtlessly, not just a Pokemon that wasn't my own partner. Nevertheless, even a clinical and more studious approach could be beneficial. I couldn't imagine that learning about Pokemon in any capacity could be a negative.

"So, you never have any _real _Pokemon in class?" I asked again. A few students squeezed in the gap between Neville and I, and I had to swallow my guilt that I was probably slowing them down. If I could, I'd have moved over so they might have more room to pass, but I wasn't yet confident enough on my brace that I would step fully away from a potential support like the outside wall of the Grand staircase.

Neville shook his head, almost sad, as he tried to lean closer to talk. "Like I said, lots of wizards don't bother with Pokemon. Muggleborns are different, though. I guess that's because they grow up with them. Even then most of the time their magical studies kind of become a priority, so I don't really hear or see many of them becoming trainers. They're still too young to legally have a Pokemon of their own when they first come to Hogwarts, and students aren't allowed to have a Pokemon partner on the grounds, so mostly I think they probably don't bother."

To me, whose entire life was now more or less completely intertwined with having a Pokemon, that sounded more than a little sad. Yes the wizards and witches had magic and could perform half the amazing things that Pokemon could do with a swish of their wands, but to me their powers were never the most amazing thing about them. It was utterly amazing that Growlithe could billow out a tornado of fire on a whim, but more incredible was the bond we shared—a connection I'd never shared with any other creature.

Before I had the chance to voice my distaste, I tried to squeeze myself against the wall to get out of the way of the students I could hear coming behind. Before I even got the chance, I was being shoved hard into the brick wall. A gust of air left me as my shoulder connected to the bricks, and I nearly swore out loud at the unexpected contact. If I'd still had my crutches rather than the brace, I'd probably have gone toppling all the way down the next flight. Thankfully, the brace allowed me to have _some _pressure on the leg to stop myself from doing so.

Neville had been pushed as well, only in the other direction, directly into the railing of the stairs which he clung onto to stop from being flung over. He let out a groan and an 'oof' before looking up the stairs with wide, scared eyes at the backs of the group who'd pushed us out of the way to get past. It had seemed as though they might simply continue without saying a word, but instead they had abruptly stopped a mere few feet ahead, backs turned to Neville and I. There were three of them, two big and bulky students following behind a thin boy with platinum blonde hair.

As soon as I was properly back on steady feet it became immediately clear why they had stopped. Growlithe was above them on the stairs, teeth bared and loudly snarling with thin smoke billowing from his nostrils and licks of flame spilling out between his teeth. He might most often come across as a sweet natured companion Pokemon, but his normally relaxed state didn't denote at all how menacing he could be, especially when someone did something to _me._

Wand in hand, the blonde boy turned his head around to address me, expression trying to hide his panic at the sight of Growlithe but not quite succeeding. His gray eyes were too wide, the quiver of his lip a little too noticeable, and his hands were trembling where they sat against his hips in false confidence. When he spoke, his voice shook, no matter how obvious his attempt to hide it was.

"You there, squib," he drawled, attempting to look mildly annoyed rather than fearful. "Tell your _beast_ to step aside, or I won't be responsible for what happens to it." He looked down on us condescendingly, easy to do from a few steps up, but the two next to him shuffled their feet nervously and glanced between Growlithe, the blonde boy, and Neville and I.

Neville blanched and let out a whimper, but other than that all that could be heard was Growlithe's deep growl. He glared at the boy's back with eyes like wildfire, but he didn't move, as still as the eye of a dangerous storm. Against the target, earlier, he had been filled with ferocity and confidence, but there was nothing stressful in the air. Now, the tension was thick enough that it felt like I was breathing through syrup. A few students gave us—namely Growlithe—a wide berth and rushed past us, trying not to get involved, but more than a few students stopped to watch and whisper.

The person I'd been a month ago would have been apologizing and backing down without hesitation as to not cause a scene. I didn't _want_ to be that Harry anymore. Growlithe's presence, even with this bullying twit between us, meant everything. _Changed _everything_. _I wasn't so helpless anymore, even if I had to rely on Growlithe's power to make that a reality. He was there, ready to take action on my word. I wasn't alone anymore, and I wouldn't be pushed around so easily.

My own voice shook when I spoke, but my heart was full of conviction. "Why should I?" I asked, trying to urge calm into my voice. My fists clenched at my sides. "You pushed _us."_

The blonde boy's eyes flicked a few times towards his peripherals, clearly unsure whether Growlithe might end up attacking. His wand was in his hand, but he wasn't really aiming it towards me. That was fortunate for him. After what had happened with the Death Eaters, it was more than likely that Growlithe would attack the second the wand was pointed in my direction, regardless of any orders I might give. Instead, he was waving the wand around, almost like it was an extension of normal hand expressions. "You shouldn't have taken so long. How is it fair to the rest of us that we have to wait on a cripple before we can get around? I mean, I've seen snails move faster."

He said it like it was a hilarious joke, and the two bulkier boys with him snickered and laughed. A few students in the crowd smirked, but I could see a small handful who frowned. No one stepped in, though.

There was a familiar pang of hurt that flashed through me as I involuntarily flinched at the words, frustration burning through me at my own reaction. The line was so similar to what Dudley and his friends might have said that it was like I was right back in Little Whinging, hopping on my crutches to get away from them. I thought I was done acting and thinking like this, but unfortunately, habits and old memories didn't go away that easily.

Growlithe barked, but it didn't sound angry. With how I was able to read him now, I'm sure it was to get my attention. One glance at him told me what he was trying to do. Our eyes briefly connected from behind the boy's legs, and my new reality became ever clearer. This boy wasn't Dudley, and I _would not _be that same Harry. I wasn't hopping on my crutches, I was walking—albeit slowly—on my new brace. I had a Pokemon, a future, and even a friend with me. Neville let out another almost inaudible squeak. He was still hunched against the rail like he was afraid of getting punched, and wasn't likely to be much help, but even the fact that he was there with me was something I'd never experienced before. Harry Hopper was an isolated victim. _Harry Potter _was a fledgling trainer, and I was not alone.

"You could always ask me to step aside? I'd have been happy to move for you," I said simply. The fists that had been clenched at my sides unfurled, and even though I could still feel the tension in my muscles, I suddenly felt more relaxed with the image of Growlithe behind my assailant. Even if I bumbled my way through this, Growlithe would have my back no matter what.

The boy sniffed haughtily and raised an eyebrow. Clearly, he wasn't used to being challenged. "Good, then you can tell that silly creature to move aside for us _now. Or _maybe I'll hex him out of the way. Think you could stop me, _trainer?" _His jeering attitude made it clear he was more than happy to turn his wand on Growlithe, and dare I think it, he almost seemed eager. I heard a choked gasp from somewhere behind me, but I didn't dare turn around in case he actually acted on his words.

Growlithe barked again and growled for a moment, as if to tell him that 'yes, absolutely we could.' It's the first time I ever heard the term trainer used as a slur, but that was definitely how I heard it. Clearly this boy felt himself superior to any and perhaps all Pokemon trainers. Either I was underestimating what student wizards were capable of or he was woefully uninformed on what Pokemon were capable of. I'd seen Growlithe fight against two adult Death Eaters and save my life in the process. The gap between Pokemon Trainers and wizards may not be quite as large as what he seemed to think.

It wasn't that I wanted to fight, but I didn't want to be cowed by someone like him anymore. That was especially true since Growlithe would be the one in danger, and I still did _not _like the idea of him fighting for real, especially without knowing what sort of things wizards could do. I was really better off not pushing my luck over something so silly. At least this time I'd responded with more than fake apologies and silent indignation. That was enough for me to be counting it as a personal victory.

"Growlithe," I said, voice steady and face impassive. "Let him through."

The growling stopped without hesitation or a questioning sound, and Growlithe returned to his calm, collected self, but he still didn't take his eyes off the offending boy. He wouldn't either, not until he was out of eyesight. There was a wave of murmurs when Growlithe stopped. _Did people think he wouldn't listen?_ A Pokemon as loyal as Growlithe would never take it easy around a potential danger, and this incident showed both of us to keep a wary eye on this boy. If this bully were to make a move and cast a spell at me, I doubted even my orders would be able to stop the Pokemon from jumping in to protect me. Likewise, had I not ordered him out of the way, there's no way he would have moved.

"At least you know your place, squib," he said to me with finality.

I had the courage to actually roll my eyes where he could _see _me. Another personal victory.

The boy turned his nose up at me, like I was no longer of any significance, and briefly turned his attention to Neville who cringed at being addressed. "Have you really got so little shame, Longbottom? A pureblood like you hanging out with a broken squib? You're an _embarrassment._" With just that he sharply spun on his heel and strutted straight past Growlithe, apparently trusting that my partner wouldn't disobey my orders and attack him anyway, or rather preferring to pretend he didn't exist. His two followers snickered and grinned before turning to follow.

"Stay outta the way from now on, Potter," one of them droned.

I lifted an eyebrow, but refrained from responding. He sounded even thicker and slower than Dudley, and that was quite an accomplishment in my eyes. We watched as the group moved up the stairs, loudly complaining amongst themselves about the irritation we'd been. Now that the excitement was over, the other students who witnessed the situation started to move on. I pushed further off the wall and stomped my braced foot on the ground a couple of times, just to double check they hadn't broken it.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked as he finally straightened himself up and moved closer. His voice was small and hesitant, even a little ashamed. He seemed reluctant to meet my gaze, looking in my direction before glancing away. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything. I'm not very good in these situations…" His voice was quiet, as if he didn't want other students to overhear him.

I shook my head as Growlithe bounced back down the stairs to sit at my feet. He let out a short and quiet whine as he gazed worriedly up at me. I reached down to pat his head to reassure him that I was okay before answering Neville.

"Don't worry about it. Who were they anyway? The blonde one reminded me of my cousin Dudley. He's a jerk, too," I said.

Tears were brimming in Neville's eyes, but he lifted his arm to his face to brush them away. I was actually surprised to see him so upset about what happened. Maybe I was a little more used to this sort of treatment than he was? Given the fact that nobody had ever even attempted to sit with him at mealtimes or had acted in any way friendly towards him, I doubted it. Perhaps that comment about him being a pureblood? I didn't really know much about wizarding politics, so it could easily have been more offensive than I realized.

"That was Draco Malfoy. His family is one of the richest and most influential in wizarding Galar. He's kind of…"

"The worst?" I supplied for him.

Neville's smile appeared for just a moment before vanishing again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let him talk to you like that. If I was just a little braver…" He trailed off and slouched as if he could hide himself, a sentiment I've related to several times in the past.

_Is this why he's so upset? Because he didn't step in?_

"Neville, really, it's okay. Nothing much happened anyway," I assured him. "Calling me a squib isn't really offensive… It's truth. I'm not ashamed of it." I meant that, especially now that I was a trainer. For years I'd rued the fact that I was no longer a wizard. But if I had been, I'd never have had Growlithe as a partner, and the idea of that was _completely _unacceptable. If it came down to a choice between having Growlithe and having my magic back, Growlithe would win every single time.

Neville shook his head. "No, it's not okay. Malfoy doesn't hesitate to use his magic. His father is rich and powerful _and _on the Hogwarts board of Governors. He doesn't seem to have the same rules as the rest of us. If you or Growlithe got hurt because I was too much of a coward to tell him to sod off…" Neville looked as though he was speaking more to the ground than to me, going from where he was looking. His voice was still small and almost hollow.

Growlithe put his head under Neville's hand and pressed his face into it, all but forcing an attempt at comfort on him. It forced a small smile on Neville's face as he pat Growlithe's cheeks. Like usual, Growlithe and I were on the same page. It was oddly touching that Neville would be so upset on my behalf, especially since this was basically business as usual for me. I'd been right to feel comforted by his presence. It wasn't just Growlithe standing by my side. I had a real friend, too, even if he hadn't stepped in.

"Neville, the last time a wizard pointed a wand at us, Growlithe blew up half a house to keep us safe. I'm actually not that worried about a pointy faced git like _him_. Bet he's all bark and no bite, not like Growlithe here," I said. Growlithe barked his agreement. I'd seen his real bark, and his real bite. _Draco Malfoy _wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Besides, I'm not a student, either. I don't know if it would be as easy for him to explain hexing a guest instead of another student." Having no real understanding of how the wizarding world actually worked, I really didn't know if what I was saying had any merit. But I hadn't backed down like I would have in the past, so I was feeling confident, for once. More than that, I wanted to make Neville feel better. Really, I think having a friend of any sort was new to both of us.

"But we better hurry and get you to class. I don't want you to be late because of me," I cut Neville off before he could even think about apologizing again. He had no real need to. For the first time in my life I hadn't felt like someone needed to jump in to protect me, and instead _I'd _been the one who was a comfort to someone else. It meant _everything._

* * *

I'd only been listening to Professor Grubbly-Plank for about five minutes before concluding that I'd made a terrible mistake in attending. Neville hadn't been kidding when he'd said it was a more clinical and methodical approach to Pokemon, but what he'd reallyunderplayed was the class' _purpose._

I'd assumed that it was a class on Pokemon Care or at least just an educational approach to their biology and habitat, but that wasn't what it was about at all. The Professor talked about the creatures like they were no more than wild beasts likely to attack anybody on mere sight. Not that I'd had a whole lot to do with Pokemon myself before getting Growlithe, but even with my passing knowledge of the creatures, I'd never heard of anybody approaching Pokemon with such a putatively dangerous outlook.

"So, as we spoke about last lesson, Fire Pokemon are far more likely to be aggressive and volatile than Pokemon of another type with the exception of Dragon Pokemon. That isn't to downplay the danger that _any _Pokemon can pose, but generally speaking their personalities steer more towards the antagonistic," she explained, no room for doubt in her tone at all. She swished her wand towards the board to charm the chalk into transcribing her words.

Sitting on the floor next to mine and Neville's desk, Growlithe let out a snort, releasing a tiny plume of smoke in the process. I reached down to scratch behind his ear to reassure him that I wasn't paying any attention to her nonsense. His tail wagged along the floor as my hands touched the top of his head, and he slowly lifted his head straight up to look at me with his wide, blue eyes.

Not a single one of the books that Hagrid had given me to read about Pokemon had mentioned anything about them being dangerous or unpredictable. Certainly, the ones in the wild could be territorial, and yes, sometimes hostile to protect their homes or young, but to speak about all Pokemon in such blanket terms? If they were all solely dangerous and only instinctively attacked people, trainers wouldn't even exist. After all, Growlithe had been paired with a trainer that he _hated _and was forced to witness the bullying of me—who apparently he'd liked—and had never once attacked any of the Dursleys. That to me spoke volumes about the true nature of Pokemon.

"In order to defend yourself from a Fire Pokemon, it is important to understand the characteristics of both the type itself and the species you may one day find yourself facing," the Professor continued. "Outside of the usual repertoire of combat spells you could use to fight the creatures, you could focus on—"

With a yawn more bored than tired, I zoned out as the Professor went on to speak of type advantages and what kind of spells could be used to capitalize on them. I suppose in a cold sort of way I could have kept listening and learned some things—after all, she was talking about the same type advantages that I would need to know inside and out as a trainer—but it felt wrong to be learning about them in order to fight the Pokemon themselves, as though they were nothing but a danger to humanity.

"So Professor," a drawling voice cut across the room. I looked over towards the same boy who had assailed Neville and I on the stairwell. Draco Malfoy, Neville had said his name was. At the same moment I looked at him, he gazed over at my direction, flicking his eyes down at Growlithe by my side. I put a hand on his head protectively, even shifting in my seat so my legs were either side of Growlithe.

"Potter's Pokemon is a fire type, right? How would you advise us to defend ourselves against its species?" He barely bothered to hide his snide tone, and the hostility was easy to see in his eyes.

My other hand tightened into a fist on my lap, and my toes curled as the words left his mouth. Growlithe growled low, though I doubt anybody was able to hear it besides Neville and I. Defend themselves against Growlithe? It seemed such a stupid, unnecessary question. Why would Growlithe ever attack them? Why should they _ever _need to use magic against him?

But clearly, I was alone with those thoughts. I glanced around the room. None of the rest of the class looked as though they shared my concern at the question, and most even looked towards Growlithe or Professor Grubbly Plank in wariness or curiosity, as if imagining how they might fight him off. The closest anyone in the room came to looking as though they might share my opinion was Neville and his sudden frown, but whether that was about the professor's teachings or Malfoy's question, I wasn't sure.

"Hm? Oh yes, the Growlithe," Professor Grubbly Plank spared a glimpse in our direction before returning her focus to Malfoy. I couldn't help but notice the way that she'd said it. _The _Growlithe. It was so dismissive. Perhaps it wasn't _quite _accurate to say that her language was dehumanizing, since Growlithe wasn't a human, but it certainly felt like the right term to use. After all, how else would you describe a creature that understood every word you said? As far as I was concerned, Growlithe was as smart, if not smarter, than most of the people I'd met.

"Well, while Growlithe does have a powerful evolutionary line, it is certainly preferable to face it before it evolves," the Professor said. "That said, no matter its evolutionary status, it is purely fire type, and thus weak to the same sort of attacks. Any defense utilizing water, ground, or rock would be sufficient, although stunners and general combat spells would be effective, also. Any spells intended to hinder movement would be an intelligent decision."

I could scarcely believe her tone, as though she were describing the proper format of an essay instead of teaching her students how to hurt the creature I loved more than anything else on earth. It made me feel sick to my stomach, and I subconsciously fisted my hand in Growlithe's fur. Funny how she used the word _defense. _It sounded very much like _attack _to me. My teeth hurt from how hard I was grinding them.

True to all of the supreme loyalty he had shown me so far, Growlithe put his front paws on the side of my chair and softly licked my hand as if checking on _my _mental well-being during the current conversation was more important to him than his own. His eyes were filled with worry for _me_. I pressed my forehead against his, swallowing down my anger, and wrapped an arm around him just to feel him close and know he was okay. How could _anyone _discuss ways to hurt Growlithe at all, let alone when he's within earshot and fully cognizant of the conversation?

The answer was simple. Either they didn't believe that Growlithe could possibly have the intelligence to understand or they didn't care. No matter which it was, I knew they were mistaken even from my brief interaction into the world of Pokemon. Not just Growlithe, either. Morpeko had so clearly understood that he could come to me for food instead of scavenging and was able to find me at Hagrid's, exactly where I told him. Even when he was in hangry mode the first time we met, he never hurt me; he only went for the apple I gave. That was _more_ than animalistic instinct.

"We rarely get the chance for a practical display, though, so unless young Mr. Potter has any objections?" The Professor's question broke me out of my thoughts, and I pulled back from Growlithe—but didn't let go—to look up.

I turned to her with a frown so severe it could easily have become permanent. "Objections to what?" Even if I'd wanted to keep the cool anger and suspicion from my voice, I couldn't have.

"Well, I think it would be helpful for the class to see a practical display of what spells might be effective against—"

I felt like an elastic band that was being stretched too far. "Are you asking me if I'll let you _intentionally_ hurt Growlithe?" I snapped and subconsciously squeezed Growlithe tighter. Beside me, Neville shifted nervously in his seat and stiffly looked between the professor and I. I was furious and tense and hurt all at once, and I didn't know how to get out what I wanted to say. It all jumbled in my head, and there were so many things I wanted to yell all at once. _What kind of school allowed a class like this?_ "Why would I let you—"

The Professor held up a hand to stop me, her eyebrows creased together as if she was confused at my reaction, and she would have almost looked concerned if her words didn't betray her. "There's no need to get upset. I wouldn't bring lasting harm, of course, but studying the theory can only get my students so far." She said it so matter-of-factly and calmly as if _my_ reaction was uncalled for. It just enraged me more.

_Lasting harm. _Those are the words she used. _Lasting harm. _On any normal day, with any other teacher, this kind of retaliation wouldn't even be in the realm of possibility for me. As it turned out though, Growlithe wasn't the only one with a protective streak. There's no way I would let them talk about Growlithe like that, and _especially _not ask if they can purposefully cast spells intended to harm directly at him. I'd sooner throw myself from the highest tower in Hogwarts.

I jumped to my feet and slammed my hands on the desk to steady myself."Are you all insane?" I'd finally been stretched too far, my anger too far in control for me to be able to hold my tongue. I could feel myself literally shaking from the force of my rage. "Why would you need to defend yourselves against Growlithe? What makes you think he'd want to attack any of you? If you knew _anything _about Growlithe as a species you'd know that they are loyal above all else, so unless I was to order him to attack or you were to attack me, you'd never need to fight him at all!" Growlithe barked his agreement, sitting prim and proper between my feet as if to accentuate my point, and I rested my hand on his head once more to ground me.

My fists clenched at my sides, and I was sorely tempted to show them what Growlithe _could _do if I wanted him to. It was only that thought that had my anger begin to melt away. As good as it would be to watch Growlithe show them a thing or two, it would defeat my entire argument. Becoming aggressive would only reinforce their opinion, but still, that didn't mean I would just stand aside and let them hurt him.

"I don't know why you're getting so angry," Grubbly-Plank said, voice laced with genuine confusion. She held her hand to her chest as if _she _were the one being attacked. "You've been a trainer for merely a month, but I have been studying Pokemon and how they are affected by magic my entire professional life. I know exactly how torestrain but _not hurt _your Growlithe." She spoke as if placating a toddler, and it almost wound me up again, but it did make me pause.

At least in explaining herself I could see how she'd managed to form her opinions. In studying only the effect that magic has on them, she'd deprived herself of the joy of actually working _alongside _Pokemon. She'd come to conclusions about Pokemon based entirely on assuming their instinctive natures, and completely neglected to study what impact their nurture would have. It would be like allowing a human to grow up out in the wild without any knowledge of society, and then making a snap conclusion about all humanity based on that one person's characteristics. If Pokemon are as smart as humans, then nurture _matters._

"What are you so afraid of, Potter?" Malfoy said with a light lilt to his voice. Clearly, he was finding this entire situation quite funny, but in a cold, cruel sort of way. "Don't think you're quite up to snuff as a trainer? Don't think you can handle a _real _witch or wizard? Your Pokemon might be able to breathe fire, but how many types can we cover with our magic?"

I screwed my nose up in distaste, but that wasn't the argument I wanted to have. I wasn't arguing because I felt like I was inferior as a trainer amongst a class full of wizards. I was arguing because they were learning about Pokemon like they were vicious beasts, and furthermore, learning how to _fight _them with magic.

I was still finding the whole idea of it completely baffling and the earlier frustration still simmered. Even the topic of trainers battling Pokemon in the wild wasn't treated like this. It was either an effort to catch a Pokemon in the wild by proving yourself worthy of it in battle or it was in defense if a trainer inadvertently stumbled into a wild Pokemon's habitat. But even wild Pokemon could be reasoned with and were never treated like they were dangerous and nothing but. Morpeko was proof. Rational people didn't treat intelligent beings like mindless beasts.

"Mr. Malfoy," the teacher scowled at the obvious baiting and tutted in admonishment, the first thing she'd done since the beginning of the class that I'd actually agreed with. "That behavior is beneath you. Mr. Potter is our guest, and if he doesn't want to allow us a practical examination that wouldn't be harmful, then we should respect that." The only comfort I could take from the situation was that Professor Grubbly-Plank at least didn't seem like she was trying to antagonize me, but the damage had been done.

With an eye-roll of my own, I pushed the chair out from behind me. Even in a supposed reprimand of Malfoy she was completely missing the point. It wasn't that I was opposed to anything practical, only that I didn't think any practical lesson involving hurting Growlithe would be _at all _appropriate. I wouldn't stay in a class that was teaching the literal antithesis of anything I wanted to learn.

I didn't even look again at the teacher or even at Neville before I was walking out of the classroom and back into the halls beyond, Growlithe loyally at my side as ever.

* * *

I was still complaining out loud to Growlithe as we descended the stairs minutes after leaving the class. "Can you believe she wanted to demonstrate how they could_ fight _you?" I was shaking my head in disbelief. Growlithe let out a low, rumbling bark. Even being the one who was talked about in the class, he didn't seem as overly bothered as I was. In fact, he didn't seem the slightest bit upset about what happened—maybe just upset because I was—but I could tell he was listening. So long as _I _didn't agree with the sentiments expressed by Professor Grubbly-Plank, he was probably feeling fine. Even though I was glad to have Hagrid, Remus, and even Neville to a lesser extent, so long as I had Growlithe in my life I knew I'd be fine. He must have felt the same. Nobody else's opinion mattered. That didn't mean they didn't bother me, however.

"That was such a waste of our time. I can't believe how different their approach is to Pokemon," I continued, not caring one bit that it was just to Growlithe and that any potential passersby might think me a lunatic. I probably was appearing that way, throwing my hands into the air as I spoke through my frustration. It didn't matter. Growlithe could understand what I was saying. To me that counted as conversation even if he couldn't respond to me with words. Growlithe tilted his head toward me and barked, something in agreement, I hoped.

"When Hagrid told me you were thinking about attending one of Professor Grubbly-Plank's classes, I almost asked him to warn you that you may be disappointed, but it seems you've quickly come to the same conclusion regardless."

The voice nearly made me jump out of my skin, but I relaxed quickly when I turned to face the source of the voice, the elderly teacher who always sat to the right of Professor Dumbledore at meal times. _I guess that's what Growlithe was barking about._ Despite her advanced age, her hair was jet black and tied into a tight bun, and usually it was an eerie match for her severe expression. At the moment, however, her face was infinitely more relaxed and friendly, enough that it made her look a different person entirely. If I was remembering correctly, her name was Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration teacher and the Deputy Headmistress.

"Uhh… well, yes, I—" I stuttered. Being caught by a teacher complaining about another felt a little like being a deer caught in a set of headlights, and I was at a complete loss for words. Given that I only ever saw her at mealtimes with a stern face and 'I'll give you detention' eyes, I was certain I was in for a punishment of some sort, even if I wasn't _technically _a Hogwarts student. Instead, she smiled softly, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and asked me to follow her. With what I'm sure must have been a quizzical look on my face, I set after her.

She was kind enough to slow down so that I could stay by her side, especially since I could tell from the way she moved that she would normally walk at a far brisker pace. Growlithe trotted alongside me, occasionally glancing his eyes up towards the woman as though he was trying to understand her, much like I was.

"Just so you know," she said after a long silence, "You are certainly not the first to attend a Pokemon class here at Hogwarts before deciding it isn't for you. You probably wouldn't have noticed, but I think you'd find that Professor Grubbly-Plank's class is attended entirely by either half-blood or pureblood students. The views you experienced in class are unique specifically to the wizarding world."

In a weird way, that did actually make me feel better. It didn't mean that I was wrong, but there was a whole world full of people learning what the students upstairs were. If being a trainer meant thinking and following what was taught back upstairs in Professor Grubbly-Plank's classroom, it definitely wouldn't be the life for me. However, with what Professor McGonagall was saying, everything I had learned so far had value. Plus, if those views were something the wizarding world thought, maybe there were some students new to this world who thought it was as ridiculous as I did. It seemed worth asking about.

"So, have you given your Growlithe a name?" she asked before I could say anything.

I shook my head and mumbled a negative reply, and now I was on a whole other thought train. I knew she was talking about the nicknames some trainers gave to their Pokemon. Hagrid had been at me for weeks to try to think of one, but I can't say I really liked any of his suggestions. Somehow 'Herbert' didn't really seem to fit despite how adamant he was that it was a fabulous name. For now, I was quite content to leave it at simply Growlithe. That was fine by him for the moment, but he'd also seemed excited at the prospect of having a name that _I'd _given him, so I'd have to come up with something eventually.

"Here we are," McGonagall said. We'd reached a simple door at the base of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower with her name inscribed on the darkened wood in big, brassy letters. As I'd thought, it named her as the Deputy Headmistress, but also the head of Gryffindor House, the table I'd been sitting at for every meal, not to mention the house that my parents had been in themselves at Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall held open the door for us to step inside before her. It was minimally decorated with a few small magical plants sitting in pot plants in the corners and a couple of moving portraits on the walls. Outside of that, merely a bookcase and a desk with simple wooden chairs. Its humble simplicity seemed to suit her. Growlithe sniffed the ground and picked up what scents he could from the air, but he remained at my feet.

She shut the door behind her before continuing to speak. "I've been meaning to have a talk with you for weeks, but especially now that you've attended a Pokemon class it feels like the appropriate time."

_Why would she want to talk with __**me**__? _It seemed a little strange, but she was speaking in gentle tones and with a kind smile, so I didn't really want to refuse. That became especially true when she knelt slowly down on the ground in front of Growlithe close enough that she could have given him a firm hug, impressive considering her age, and pet along the top of his head and down his back. She looked slowly down his sides and under his belly like she was examining him for faults. Growlithe let her without complaining, even shifting so she could get a better look. It was only for a few moments before she was climbing back to her feet. I held out a hand to help steady her.

She smiled as I helped her back upright. "Ah, thank you. I've wanted to meet Growlithe here ever since you got to Hogwarts," she admitted with a fond look at him. "He's really quite a spectacular specimen. Albus tells me he's been bred well, and you're clearly taking very good care of him. I can see the two of you becoming quite the pair, given time."

Before I could so much as thank her, she was gesturing to the chair in front of her desk for me to sit. I gingerly sat while she moved to its other side and took her own seat behind it. Growlithe, instead of sitting by my feet like always, hopped into my lap and turned in a circle to lie down. He didn't quite fit, his legs were spilling over my knees and his upper body nearly tipped over the side, but that was fine. I rested both my hands in the thick, soft fur on his back and idly pet him as we settled in. McGonagall watched with soft eyes and a tender smile.

"He trusts you completely, and you him," she noted with her hands clasped on her desk. "It's nice to see."

I couldn't help but smile and relax a bit, especially after the Pokemon lesson with Professor Grubbly-Plank. Here was a Hogwarts teacher that was actually appreciating the bond between a trainer and a Pokemon. She'd been the one to tell me that Grubbly-Plank's views were uniquely a wizarding perspective, but clearly she didn't share them herself.

"We've only been together a month… but I feel like Growlithe and I have been partners forever."

McGonagall nodded. "Of course, that makes sense, all considering. Albus told me how the two of you came together. There's nothing quite like winning the loyalty of a Pokemon, is there? That is the truth of _any _Pokemon, but Growlithe as a species tends to take that loyalty a little further, I believe. When you've won the love of a Growlithe, you've gained a partner for life."

With a smile I rubbed Growlithe's back with more fervor. Growlithe himself let out a loud, contended sort of growl, relaxing so far he nearly went sprawling off my lap. It was only my hands holding him that kept him in place. What McGonagall said was a nice fact to hear out loud, even if I'd read it in Hagrid's books. It felt like a confirmation. Growlithe and I were together for good.

"But I wanted to speak to you about how the wizarding world views Pokemon," McGonagall continued frankly after a moment of silence. She almost seemed regretful for interrupting. "I know that you're a squib, and your experience will be different, but since you're here at Hogwarts and have a link to the wizarding world that most non-magicals don't, I thought it prudent to have the discussion."

I nodded, but I didn't really understand why she would even be thinking about my wellbeing, since we'd never met, but I wasn't about to turn her down. During dinners I'd been thinking about how strict of a teacher she must be, given her pointed, severe expressions, but now she looked more like a sweet and loving—if also no-nonsense—grandmother. My mouth was opening up and spilling out words before I could even think of stopping myself.

"They were talking about ways they might defend themselves against Growlithe, but the way they were talking sounded more like attacking than defending…" I said slowly. "What possible reason could they have to ever hurt him?" I finished, troubled at the thought, and looked down.

Growlithe had relaxed to the point that his tongue was lolling out his mouth and his eyes were squinted in pleasure. His back leg kicked out as I scratched at his side, and he groaned quietly in pleasure. If they could only see him now, they'd surely have to see that Growlithe posed absolutely zero threat to them at all. Growlithe would never want to hurt anyone but in defense of himself or of me. Anything else was simply ridiculous.

A look of shame flashed across her features. "I wish I could say I was surprised. In too many wizarding families Pokemon are considered significant only for their potential threat. It's truly a shame."

"It's _bizarre,_" I corrected. All my life I'd seen people partner with Pokemon, albeit from afar. Even if the only wizard I'd properly known was Remus, it simply did not compute that the perspectives between muggles and wizardkind on Pokemon could differ so very much. To one part of the population, they were essential as companions and they were abundant even in the workforce and the economy. To the wizarding population, though, they were clearly seen as mere dangerous beasts. It didn't make one lick of sense that such a huge gap between beliefs could possibly exist. Did wizards not even look at muggles?

McGonagall nodded her agreement. "I'm afraid it's not likely to change anytime soon. I would like nothing more than to, at the very _least_, change the way the subject is taught here at Hogwarts, but it is a far more complicated issue than you might think. To you and I it may seem simple, even logical, but to those who think as Professor Grubbly-Plank does… the real truth is that they believe our views as odd as we do theirs."

I shook my head slowly. "But _why? _Remus never mentioned anything like this…" I lifted a hand to squeeze at the bridge of my nose. None of this made any sense.

McGonagall let out a very subtle sigh and reached to a small ceramic jar at the edge of her desk. She took the lid off and held it out to me, open end first.

"Biscuit?"

Hesitantly, I nodded and reached for one. McGonagall smiled warmly before she continued to speak, placing it back on her desk.

"You've been lucky that your first experience with the wizarding world has been through a wizard as kind and open-minded as Remus Lupin. Although he is of course _aware _of the differing views between muggles and wizards, he's largely been apart from it…"

_Because of his lycanthropy. _The truth of it went unspoken. She paused to give me a knowing eye. I nodded sadly.

"I'm not surprised he's never talked about it." She carried on. "His friendship with your father and his family, as well as a muggleborn like your mother… pureblood wizarding perspectives would never have been a significant influence on him."

"Then my parents didn't believe—" I had to ask the question. I couldn't really believe that if they thought the same way as some in the wizarding world would change my perspective on becoming a trainer, but it would certainly help to know they would support the choice I was making for my life. I held my breath to wait for the answer. As much as I tried to tell myself it wasn't important to me, I couldn't help the effect it had on me.

"No! Certainly not. Your mother of course, as a muggleborn, grew up with Pokemon, and your father's family was very forward thinking, politically speaking. It was very unusual for the time, but your Grandfather on your father's side even became a trainer himself, after he retired."

Knowing my parents would have approved of my choices was a huge relief. It was enough to bring a small smile to my face, but it really just brought on more questions as well.

"Unusual? So there were no wizard trainers? What about now? Did either of my parents have any Pokemon of their own?" They came spilling out my mouth in rapid succession. Remus had never mentioned any of this.

She didn't seem to mind the questions and even appeared eager to give me some answers. "Oh, it was certainly unusual for the time, but your Grandfather wasn't one to be bothered by appearances or political gossip. His Litleo was the pride of his life. After your grandfather died, your mother and father helped to find Litleo a nice trainer in the muggle world. I don't think either of them wanted to see him fighting at their sides in the war…"

That alone answered my question over whether they had any Pokemon of their own. From the sound of it, they probably wouldn't have minded going to catch one of their own, but the war must have stood in the way of it. In a weird way, that was comforting. A Pokemon would have undoubtedly been helpful to them in the fight against Voldemort, but that would just have been pitting one more innocent life against his evil. They'd made the right choice, in my opinion.

"As for whether it is as unusual _now…_" McGonagall trailed off. After a moment's shuffling, she lifted a hand into the air, holding a familiar red and white pokeball. I sat up straight in my chair, careful to not let Growlithe go sprawling to the ground. She pressed the button on the front, and after a brief flash of white amorphous energy, a Pokemon appeared at her side.

Her Pokemon was far bigger than Growlithe, standing on two legs at probably about the same height as I was standing upright. Definitely some sort of flying type, or perhaps _was _one in it's previous evolutionary line, but not one I'd seen or remembered from any of Hagrid's books. It was primarily covered in brown and white feathers while the feathers above its shoulders and surrounding its head were a deep, forest green. They wrapped around its head like a shawl or a cloak. It stared at me for several long moments without blinking before twisting its head on its side, as though examining me with a quizzical eye.

Growlithe sat up immediately at the flash, standing up on my legs and staring intently right back at the Pokemon, probably deciding whether or not it was a threat. I gave him a quick pat on his back just to reassure him I wasn't in any danger. He sat back down, but where he'd been laying down before, he wouldn't again. If this new Pokemon even had the _slightest _potential of causing me harm, Growlithe would be alert and attentive. It was simply his nature.

"This is Decidueye," McGonagall introduced after we all had some time to observe each other. Decidueye itself let out a soft, owlish hoot and bobbed its head. "We've been together for quite some time now, haven't we, girl?" Another hoot. Decidueye turned to look at Professor McGonagall with what can only be described as loving affection.

"She's beautiful," I said through a breath of awe and admiration. If not for Growlithe sitting firmly on my lap, I'd already have been standing to get a closer look.

"Oh yes, and she's very aware of the fact," Professor McGonagall said, tone somewhere between admonishment and fondness. Decidueye lifted her head high and proud as if preening for attention.

"Then there _are _wizards who are trainers…" I said, relief flooding my voice. I slumped back in my chair in relief.

McGonagall nodded, but it was slow, and only once. "There are, but not a great many of us, I'm afraid."

"But _why?" _It just didn't make any sense to me. My grandfather had a Pokemon, but it was considered unusual for the time. Even now, decades after his death, it was still a rarity. I'd never before realized just how prominent the gap was between muggles and wizards. It had always been easy to assume that there were no real problems, but apparently that wasn't the case at all. It was almost like there were two different worlds, two different sets of rules, and two completely separate peoples. I'd been taken to regular doctors and mediwizards at muggle hospitals, and I'd met wizards out and around who had recognized me while looking completely at home amongst muggle communities—so why was there such a huge divide? Didn't any of those wizards see Pokemon out and about? See how they interacted with people?

"That is not an easy question to answer," McGonagall admitted, her face scrunching up into a disapproving scowl. "There is no _one _single fact that explains how things became the way they are, but it is instead the result of years of rapid change for the wizarding community. One needs only to look at our history to understand."

_Is she talking about Voldemort?_

"Once, and keep in mind this was not so many years ago that people have forgotten, but _once,_ Pokemon were as important to our society as to the muggle communities, only in a _very _different way. As magical creatures, Pokemon were important to wandlore, to potions, to herbology… so much of our magic was dependent on Pokemon. The difference was that they were never our companions. They were tools, used to create powerful potions and wands and a variety of other magical tools."

The thought of it made me feel queasy, and I hugged Growlithe closer to me. I knew only a little about how some potions were made, but it was enough to realize that some were from literal body parts. The stomach of a goat, the brain of a frog, to name some of those I'd heard of. If it were the same for Pokemon…

"As Pokemon became more integral to muggle society, it became more and more frowned upon for wizards to use them in such a way. Since our societies are and were so intertwined, our laws slowly began to change."

McGonagall reached out to pat the feathers of her Decidueye. "For some wizarding families who had always associated quite eagerly with the muggles, the laws were not unwelcome. For others… it was seen as a destruction of our culture and way of life. Truth be told, I believe that to be utter _hogwash. _Disgraceful political dogma has led to some in our society denoting Pokemon to be mere dangerous beasts, unworthy of the protection of our laws. It's untrue, of course, but it is a convenient argument for them to make." She sounded resigned to the reality of it.

_They believe Pokemon unintelligent, dangerous creatures… because of politics? _I shook my head. I didn't know whether to blame the politicians and the people in power pushing such foolish ideas, or the gullible citizens who believed them. All they had to do to see the truth was spend a day or two in the muggle world. I scoffed in disbelief and irritation.

"Believe me, Harry, these arguments are more about status and power than they are about anything else. It is about wizards being superior in every way to muggles, and the belief that muggle influence over our way of life is supposedly destroyingour culture. This is why I wanted to speak with you. You are here at Hogwarts, and therefore under the protection of the headmaster. However, I still believe it would be foolish not to tell you why some will treat your status as a Pokemon trainer in a… negative light."

_Like Malfoy._

His treatment of myself and Growlithe made a whole lot more sense now. The way he'd called me _'trainer' _like it was some sort of derogatory remark—to him, it actually was. To him, Growlithe was a mindless beast, a tool, and he was _absolutely_ superior with his magic to my lack of it. Bullies weren't new to me, but at least now I had some insight into why Malfoy thought the way he did.

"I see…" I said slowly. It was difficult to process it all. Even after the explanation I didn't _quite _understand. There was so much to wizarding history and culture that I was never privy to growing up, so much that I couldn't understand from a single conversation. Nevertheless, it was enlightening enough that I could at least begin to understand just what had happened in the classroom, and why nobody else had thought it a big deal.

"It's a little sad, isn't it? That they might never get to experience this bond? I'd sooner cut off my finger than be without Growlithe…" I said slowly, shaking my head at the mere thought of it.

Growlithe let out a whine at the thought of me hurt and turned his head from where he sat on my lap. He extended his neck and licked my cheek. I let out a short laugh and ruffled his fur.

"Maybe while I'm here at Hogwarts I can show people that they might be _wrong _about Pokemon…"

Would that even be possible? Neville was convinced already, but I got the distinct impression that he was more like my parents had been, more open-minded than his fellow purebloods. But then, even if he wasn't, it was only getting to know Growlithe that would do it. His sweet disposition, his obvious intelligence... Growlithe's very nature flies in the face of everything they think they know.

Across the desk, McGonagall was smiling wide. "You are your mother's son," she sniffled, her eyes a little watery at his mother's mention. "She always wanted to spread love and kindness, too." She reached for a tissue that must have been in one of the drawers of her desk and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Decidueye let out another soft hoot and stretched out one of her massive wings to pat at her partner's shoulder.

I dipped my chin down to my chest, pressing my face into Growlithe's fur hoping I wouldn't tear up, too.

My mind drifted back to my encounter with Malfoy. Would it be _possible _to change the mind of someone like him? To overcome years of what he has learned? Even if I tried, he would never respect anything I had to say. I was merely a squib. My opinion didn't matter to him even slightly. Without magic or power, changing their minds would be beyond difficult.

But, the thought of it _did _give me an idea. I sat up sharply, a smile flitting across my face.

"Professor, I know this might be a random question, but… all your spell incantations are Latin, right?"

She gave a hesitant and slightly baffled nod. "It varies around the world, but yes. Here we teach Latin-based spells."

"Do you know what the Latin word for fire might be?"

"The word for fire, singular, is _Ignis." _She stated with a curious raised eyebrow.

_Ignis. _Of all the names I'd considered for Growlithe in the past few weeks, that one seemed to fit the best. More than anything, it was symbolic. Malfoy and all the other wizards who doubted and judged the relationship between trainer and Pokemon could _keep _the magic that made them so supposedly superior. We had a power all our own. If it took a word like Ignis for them to cast a fire spell, then that seemed _perfect _for Growlithe.

"Ignis…" I tested the word on my tongue. "What do you think, Growlithe? You like that as a name?"

He barked and let his tongue droop out his mouth, lightly panting the way he did when I'd say something to make him happy. His tail wagged vigorously atop my leg.

"Ignis. Who needs magic, right? We have magic that's all our own."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
I’ve created a discord for anybody who might be reading my fics. It’s just a place to talk about fanfic (or just random crap) that has a spot for fic recs (already lots of cool stuff shared) and if anybody wants to promote their own fics. I update every day about where I’m at with my writing, as well as just asking for advice and showing off snippets/scenes on whatever I’m working on. 
> 
> Quite a few have joined so far and its been alot of fun. Hope to see you there!
> 
> Link - 
> 
> https://discord.gg/mT3BTUe


End file.
